Her eyes blazed a bright sparkling blue, like a shallow sea shore. Her heart was wild and free; her soul unchained from the titanium tethers of tyranny. Her skin was soft and smooth, her limbs slender and sleek, her hair long and flowing. His eyes smouldered a dark thoughtful green, like a deep jungle wilderness. His heart was bold and brave; his soul inflamed with ancient passion and an immutable zest for life and experience. His skin was tough and raw, his limbs muscular and lean, his bushy hair sprawled upon him like a crown of roses, an image of beauty, of floral aromatic locks of hair.
They danced like magnetic poles, each moving in relation to the motions of the other in perfect harmony. They swayed rhythmically to and fro, in a state of complete union. So natural was their romance it was as if it sprung from the fertile earth like a fruit tree. So deep-rooted was their companionship it was as if it sat upon a foundational bedrock of interlocking marble stone blocks, like a massive mountain range of megalithic monumentality or a colossal pyramid from long ages past.
Resting her soft-skinned cheek upon his strong, solid shoulder, she sighed a deep sigh of satisfaction and smiled in her soul a sacred smile; a holy warmth emanating from her, engulfing and surrounding him in a beautiful aura of tenderness and acceptance. He smiled to himself a silent, secret smile, shared only with her, his beloved.
His heart was encircled on all sides by high stone walls of stoic resilience, hardened by the trials, the traumas, the myriad troubles and tribulations of life. Within this guarded castle he created an Edenesque walled-garden of psycho-spiritual delight and sanctuary; a place of peace and tranquillity for his beloved to plant her delicate love within and watch it grow into a bountiful meadow. They played within the securely cordoned-off compound like merry children with careless abandon – free – knowing no demon could ever traverse their insurmountable barriers, corrupt their Utopia nor do harm to their perfect relationship of love and joy.
His voice was deep, like a low-rumbling Gregorian chant, projecting far out beyond him with graceful ease; and though it was rarely raised, it nevertheless travelled outward with great and casual power, an assertive force, not insistent to be listened to, nor desperate for attention, yet always eagerly heard by any and all with whom he communicated. Each sentence he spoke seemed essential, each word entirely necessary, as if he boiled down each and every fragment of language he expressed into a super-concentrated composition of meaning, a verbal concoction of impressive linguistic precision, never wasting a word; as lean and toned as an Olympic swimming-champion’s tight abdomen, or a mix-martial-artist’s broad, round shoulders, like smooth boulders of volcanic rock on a wild mountainside.
She sang out heavenly, harmonic vocal tones in a passionate flurry of creative energy and artistic expression. Her voice sounded like soft silk, caressing his ears with sensuous waves of sublime sound, an oceanic wash of refreshing sonorous frequencies in which he felt he could swim and float serenely, a majestic symphony of leisurely lolling melodies that serenaded him to sleep each night, offering unto him a solace and a solitude in which her divine femininity swooned and whispered elegantly and in which he could rest his fatigued body and drowsy mind after a day of great toil both physical and cognitive.
A potent and palpable sense of intimacy existed between them, as if some invisible magnetic or gravitational force connected them irrevocably to one another, like a metaphysical tether tying their souls together. It was a closeness and a feeling of immediacy which both carefully and conscientiously nurtured, like a rare and valuable flower exported from some exotic and extra-terrestrial land of incredible natural beauty.
His powerful legs were as sturdy as a wise, old tree trunk of solid, dense oak wood, hardened with age and from exposure to the elements of a wilderness climate. She leaned her ephemeral, sensitive body upon him, forever enjoying such a profound nearness to him and the secure sense of safety such attachment offered her.
In moments of pensive self-reflection she sometimes pondered what more she could possibly desire in a partner, a lover, a friend, a companion and a soulmate, such as he was to her. She searched her mind for answers and only one word came to meet her from the depths of her imagination: “nothing”. There was nothing left to want, she concluded; no more to crave, no wish left to yearn for, no unspoken desires to haunt her in the still silence of night as they lay side by side in their holy marital bed.
Their love was precious beyond valuation, like a diamond the size of a planet orbiting some distant super massive black hole in the far corners of the multiverse about to be swallowed up in a space-time-bending interstellar tunnel. Their love was passionate beyond calculation, leaving all who encountered it utterly awe-struck and frozen in a paralysing state of sheer wonder. Their love was infinite beyond comprehension, like the unimaginable power of God and the impossible-to-conceptualise degree of such divinity as we see before us. Their love was tender beyond comparison, more vast and all-consuming even than that of Romeo and Juliet in old Shakespearean tales of yore. Their love was sensual beyond measure, reaching ultimate heights that even the authors of the unprecedented Karma Sutra could not see. Their love was immortal beyond quantification, immeasurable even to the most advanced and high tech mechanical devices for scientific observation ever invented. Their love was positive beyond qualitative analysis. Their love was eternal: an ageless bond prophesied in the shimmering stars and the cosmic constellations for innumerable centuries until finally the long-fated day came, when their eyes met for the very first time, their souls instantaneously united and their ageless love was thus born into reality, finally manifest, one sunny summer afternoon on a tranquil Greek island.
She wore skinny white jean shorts wrapped tightly around her thighs, hugging her waist closely, perfectly fitted to her petite physique. Upon her beautiful, soft and freshly-pedicured feet were adorned brand new tan-coloured canvas sandals bought in a local market open only on weekends and known exclusively to seasoned travellers and friendly, welcoming natives. A luxurious rose gold necklace dangled casually around her slender, freckled neck; an expertly crafted crucifix resting upon her solar plexus, reaching down enticingly into the cleavage of her bosom, her breasts enrobed in a clean white bikini top which contrasted and highlighted her luscious light brown sun-kissed skin, her olive-toned tan so alluring that all whom she passed felt their awe-struck gaze almost gravitationally pulled towards her; not a crude, leering stare of sexualised perversion, but instead a look of wonder and nuanced aesthetic appreciation, as if she were a work of living art. Upon her au-natural face she wore a pair of black sunglasses with polarised lenses gifted to her for her nameday from a dearly cherished friend in the fashion industry.
She embodied with graceful naturalism the sacred shade of an immortal Greek Goddess descended from Mount Olympus to walk in the world of mortals, as if on a casual vacation. When first he admired her perfect form he almost instantly considered her the truest manifestation of the Ideal of Beauty he had and would ever lay his enthralled eyes upon and, much to his delight, her gaze fell upon him with equal wonder and subtle flirtatious invitation. That was the start of a story too great not to tell.
Short Story by Stamos Mardou