The Flowering Arch

By Amicus

DESCRIPTION:
Working for a newspaper in a small southern town to be near his children and grandchildren, a man with grey in his hair, makes his twice weekly slow walk to the local market. He pauses to rest at a vacant lot behind an old abandoned church where a stone bench gives him a place to pause. As he turns the corner around the church, a vision meets his eyes and he shakes his head, thinking he must be dreaming. He is not. Dressed all in white, a long flowing dress, looking like a Princess of yore, she is waiting, waiting just for him. Why? Why him? Who is she? What does she want? She takes his breath away when she tells him. The man is never given a name, he is in his late 40’s, grey in his temples tall and thin, proud, erect and stubborn, but kind and gentle.

EXCERPT:
“Uh, have you kissed a lot of girls and had it go all crazy like that before?”

I smiled but didn’t look at her. “Not many. I think it is not that intense with most people but I really don’t know.”

“God. I am only now breathing about normal and I was tingling all over and I can still feel where you touched me.”

“I’m sorry. I should not have touched you that way.”

“Oh! But I wanted you too! I had no idea what was happening but I didn’t want it to stop, I just wanted more and more and ...oh...oh, my!”

She turned to me and pulled my head around. “Did you feel that way too? Like you didn’t want to stop but wanted more and more? Oh!”

I knew she saw the color rise to my face. I tried to turn away but she kept her hand there.

She blushed then and turned away. “I knew you weren’t just pretending to kiss me when it got crazy; I knew you were feeling it too. I, uh, ah, I felt you hard against my leg and for a moment I had no idea...”

“Sorry.”

She stayed silent and quiet. Not moving but breathing a little more deeply. I tried not to look at her.

“What if we hadn’t stopped?”

Her voice was barely a whisper and I didn’t know what, if anything, I wanted to say. “Worst case I guess, I go to jail for corrupting a minor and you get pregnant.”
I heard her sharp intake of breath and I could hear in her voice when she spoke, a regained self confidence.

“I am not as young as I look today or you think I am and my mother for some reason, I think she didn’t know what I might do, had me on contraceptive pills years ago. So there!”

I turned and smiled at her and confirmed by the look on her face that she was pretty much back in control of her thoughts and her quick, oh, so quick, mind. I saw a look and then she turned and looked all around, just as I had before I put my hands around her waist. And then she looked back at me and I saw another look.

“Don’t even tell me what you are thinking.”

“No one ever comes back here. You are the only person in years I have seen here, no one can see us.” She paused and I could feel her mind working. “If I wanted to and you wanted to, what would be wrong about that?”

I gave her a hard look, deep into her eyes and watched as she tried to read the look. I wanted to watch her reaction. “Take your panties off.”

I had to chuckle as her mouth and eyes opened wide and she gasped at my words. Her face turned pink then white then dark red. “I am teasing you. I wanted to see the look on your face. You didn’t disappoint me.”

Then she glared at me. “You think I won’t?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lot's Cave, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310398001

Book preview

CONTENTS

The Flowering Arch

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note

Taboo Erotica

Family Exotica

Other Novels

by Amicus

I was pleased the first time I discovered this particular route for my walk. The first half was tree lined with well-kept lawns and flower gardens and three houses, maybe four, had children playing on porches or swings and trampolines alongside the buildings. Most of the time there was a female in attendance; mother, grandmother or aunt and sometimes a teenaged girl keeping a watchful eye on the young ones.

Over time I noticed I had cultivated a ‘nod and smile’ relationship with some of the women and further down the road two or three more older men and women who seemed always to be puttering in a garden or doing small chores around the houses; we also nodded and smiled at each other and sometimes exchanged a word or two about the weather or the temperature. It took several months, maybe the better part of a year, but my meanderings were politely accepted and became part of the neighborhood. It is a pleasant feeling.

The walk was not the shortest distance between two points as I often detoured, usually on a whim, going around the block instead of following the same street. But my favorite part of the entire journey was the back side of an old abandoned church. The walls were overgrown with Ivy vines, some untended rose bushes and even fragrant honeysuckle in season. The front was open to the street but the back was partially enclosed by a decaying ornamental wood fence. I had wandered into the back, feeling as if I might be trespassing but curious to see what was there.

I felt like I was intruding on someone’s privacy when I first saw the latticed arch gracefully standing in the center of the overgrown backyard. It was more forlorn in wintertime although the vines remained green all year, the other climbing plants and flowers lost leaves and I felt a sense of loneliness and neglect for such a lovely scene. But as winter waned and spring came into full blossom the arch regained its regal stature and I always looked forward to walking there.

I slowed my walk as I neared the church and then came to a stop. I had not considered that the little area around the arch was tended as I never saw evidence of cultivated soil or new plants. But as I thought about it, the arch, the flower bed surrounding it, the graveled walkway and the statuary bench were never littered with fallen leaves or the other detritus of wind and rain. The rest of the surrounding backyard showed the signs of neglect, but not the area around the arch; curious.

I resumed my walk, longer steps now as I anticipated confirming my memory and curiosity. The back of the church property bordered a wooded area with no visible houses through the foliage and each side protected by tall thick deep shrubbery that gave a real sense of privacy to the whole back area. It was my favorite place on the entire walk. I often stopped; sat on the bench and had a smoke.

I slowed my steps alongside the building, looked down and stepped over some decaying fence boards not chancing a rusty nail through my shoe, I took another step or so before I looked up, rounded the corner of the building and glanced at the arch…and stopped breathing.

A vision