BF4Ever

by George Matheos

  She switched to a more intoxicating vodka martini from her beloved red and tipped another double in search for more dramatic revelations, alone, in the emptiness of the daylight darkness of her expensively decorated bedroom. There was a praying mantis barely hanging from her ceiling. It wasn’t unusual these days for many coloured animals, large and small, to blur the shadows of her ceiling. She could make out lots of nice animals in the play of the light. Familiar visitors, they were her friends.

  It was definitely that damn light.

  “Without the sun there is no life, frightened and tired prophets of science repeat with fuzzy vision, as they lean on their staffs, and watch the sun set,” stormed ahead Sharon. “Stupid old men waiting for their time to pass. Without the sun, without light, there is no time, but assuredly there is life. It is without life that there is no light. For Heaven and Hell don’t care one wit about light or time. Proof that light is not essential to life is that old people continue to exist in eternal darkness.”

  She smiled because she didn’t like old men.

  Forever and ever, amen!

  Damn light makes people go mad.

  How strange that people are born with wrinkles and they die with wrinkles, she thought. It’s only between the wrinkles of birth and the wrinkles of death, that there’s a little stretch. All life is nothing more than a little stretch, she felt proud.

  To her praise, many times Sharon thought she was going mad.

  When thoughts of mental illness crept into her delicate mind she sometimes gave way to her evolving madness and clearly saw her thoughts as unfolding of past repressed regrets. Too many thoughts, too many regrets, to put in the right order of things.

  “I don’t care; I have no regrets; there are farts and then there’s thunder,” she tittered.

  She breathed easier believing that there was nothing bizarre about her peculiar thoughts, other than that she had been perhaps notably blessed with the rare gift of prophetic visitations. Without regret her thoughts were full of curious insights of an unknown but friendly source, which stirred her lonesome soul. And who wouldn’t have likewise thought these feelings of sadness as a blessing, these intriguing outbursts of profound insight? For there you are, one minute admiring a most gorgeous still exquisitely firm titillating body, and the next minute your neurons jump to synoptic probing of strange thoughts that seemed to have no obvious purpose, quirky, yet most coherent, peculiarly there to inconspicuously drive you mad with happiness. Could it have been that the inquisitive mind was searching for some sort of explanation to the ages old question of “is that all there is?” And not until these curious thoughts escaped her unconscious, and intellectually became part of her soul, would Sharon begin to fully understand them, and free her body of sin, and find peace of mind.

  Humbly, that insight and the desire to find peace arrived almost imperceptibly but most naturally. It was kind of strange, simple, and yet, to her, it had been there all the time, ever present. It was as if in some mysterious way the secret code had always been there, linked to the question, and that every time her mind now asked the question, “is that all there is?” the all-encompassing response would pop up, in triptych.

  For the Lord is truly Holy, and Strong, and Immortal.

  For the Lord is truly Holy, and Strong, and Immortal.

  For the Lord is truly Holy, and Strong, and Immortal.

  “How beautiful these words are, how full of truth,” she smiled, still on her soft bed, eyes half shut in disdain of the Satanic world she now lived in.

  She saw a shaft of morning sunlight swaying with the movement of her silk window curtains, and she buried her head into her silk pillow. She could no longer enjoy herself while that triptych was erratically trembling through her still half-naked mind.

  For the Lord is truly Holy, and Strong, and Immortal.

  For the Lord is truly Holy, and Strong, and Immortal.

  For the Lord is truly Holy, and Strong, and Immortal.

  That ever, damned, morning sun splashing through her bedroom’s wind-blown curtains startled her sapphire eyes, shimmering to them the cruel perception of those ever-present yellow lumps of death splattered across her ceiling. Streams and streams of light splashed through her windows, invading her privacy, and bringing gloom and shame to what used to be an undisturbed life. It seemed silly, and at times she would wonder about her state of mind, but Sharon had come to dislike, sometimes even hate, the intensity of the morning glow, through her pink curtains, of the tiresome sun. She had come to think that there was nothing worse than starting out a day with bright bursts of morning sharp sunlight intruding into her soul. It was as if her mind were being X-rayed to relentlessly remind her of all her fractured and forgotten thoughts. She hated the blinding light and wished for dark grey days in tune to her cloudy mind, and heart, and soul. She was certain that the exasperating morning brightness would one day unfold the end of her imagined existence. Full of remorse, she wanted only the quiet darkness that must have been before there was the damn light. She remembered the darkness of her yesteryears as the soothing flat line of undisturbed childhood and she ached to relive it again. It was the infantile years of easy tranquillity that she sought while the pulse of light now emanating from her brain was the terrible biological forerunner of inevitable death, a tediously recalled monotony of a deadly past.

  “Blessed are the creatures in the bottom of the deep oceans for they see no light and know no time to disrupt the spiritual rhythms of their tranquillity,” another eye opener burst through Sharon’s brain looking for an exit. Surely the depths of the oceans are the beginning of the all.

  That’s a ridiculous thought, she thought, and moved on

  “Draw the damn blinds, leave me alone,” she shouted to no one in particular, for, again, she was all by herself inside her luxurious bedroom, a loving presentation from her dumb-witted husband.

  “Keep that damn light out,” she cried in a half-hearted voice full of sorrow.

  She looked up and across her ceiling and as in a psychedelic state she saw a rainbow of colors dancing in slow motion. All the colors of the hateful light were flooding through the prism of her senses diffusing in all directions in the room. All the colors of the universe were streaming through her windows, bouncing off the walls of her bedroom, reflecting up from the mahogany floor, even rising from underneath her bed. She could see every shaft of blended and unblended green, and red, and blue, but mostly jarring yellow dancing across her ceiling. Everywhere within the firmament of her bedroom’s empty space she saw pastel photons dancing on top of air-born dust molecules and though the music was inviting, it frightened her.

  “The sparkle of sunlight against the swaying green leaves of trees in the spring coolness of dawn,” she sighed in a tiny moment of upper clarity. “It’s a bedazzling display but totally depressing, because like all fireworks, leaves dazzling in the whispering sun are simple acts of transpiration lacking any mystery and are thus common and devoid of any significance.”

  And then her loneliness distracted her back into her very own neurotic reality.

  Lovely, she sighed and smiled, but damn it, all was happening too damn fast and there had to be more.

  “Jesus,” she cried out loud again to no one in particular, “how can anyone have a private thought with all that fucking light streaming across one’s eyes”?

  That boy, that boy, that boy, such rosy cheeks, such hot red lips, she repeated the magic mantra of her memory over and over, again and again, and tried to overlap the boy’s face over Jesus’ but it was no use there was too much light.

  “Have you ever been kissed on the lips by a boy on a moment’s lark and liked it,” she asked herself?

  She got out of bed, dropped her kimono, and before she put on any clothes she fumbled for a pair of sunglasses to dark out the light and tone down the glare that was bouncing off of everything in the wild bedroom of her mi
nd. Groping for something, anything, to calm her strange anxiety, she thought she saw a stretched spot of skin on the back of her otherwise smooth hand and she violently sobbed at the unfolding wrinkle. No more glowing bedrooms to shock the shit out of your senses and rip your nerves to the frenzied edges of insanity. Thank God for the ever-increasing grey pollution with its dark smog and clouds enveloping this sickly world. That global gook ought to burn some retinas and cut out the blasted morning sun.

  “Amen” she said out loud.

  “And in your soul let there be Peace,” she heard her mind respond.

  She had come to the conclusion that

  The Lord works in mysterious ways.

  The Lord works in mysterious ways.

  The Lord works in mysterious ways.

  The scattered insights, flashing lightning-like periodically through her mind, were surely of mysterious ways and had to be of portentous things to come, for the Lord surely was their source. She could not predict the sudden outbursts of their appearance but welcomed them and prayed to encourage their visitations to make her day.

  Like all the saints, she prayed. Praying reminded her of home, and she found comfort in her prayer, which she understood as true connections to the Holy Spirit; they were not some false neurotic manifestations of brain cell receptors and neurons firing and misfiring at each other at chaotic sequences determined by hormonal adjustments which themselves were predetermined by pre-dispositions as governed by one’s DNA helix.

  She interrupted herself to look in her mirror.

  I love you with all my heart

  Only you do I adore

  And to know that you love me

  Only makes me love you more

  “I am so beautiful,” she wanted to cry. “I could fall in love with me.”

  And to know that you love me

  Only makes me love you more

  *

  Weird thoughts jostling for attention against tiresome everyday boredom came and went, unabated, and Sharon walked her lonely kitchen, more and more unable to grasp the logic of their force. Ambiguity reverberated in her mind, but as she tried to reconcile her thoughts to more natural explanations, the whole perplexing lot took flight towards Heaven, and never looked back. High it flew into the sky, and it became much easier to simply curl up on her silk sheets bed and suck her thumb, like other people do when in bewilderment. So, in cadence with other thoughts and pleasures, which were perhaps common to all human beings, to all human behavior, might not these private thoughts be also natural adjustments to the various realities that were possible, thanks to modern day wonder pills and other pharmaceuticals? The free will choices available to human beings surely would not exclude the blessings to select from the Lord’s inventories of gentle comforts. In the Lord’s infinite varieties, that could have meant recalling the wonderful teachings of the New Testament, or munching salsa and corn chips with a variety of partners, mates, husbands, or wives, while fondling one’s self. For sure there were all those and other choices all of which were simply God’s gifts to man and woman, meant to bring happiness to one’s brief and, God willing, perhaps blessed life. No one ever needs to suffer the loneliness of the heart knowing the presence of the Lord Jesus.

  Oh how she hated Hank!

  Pray and you shall find salvation within your heart.

  Please be kind and understanding

  Love me more day by day

  The joy of prayer is so rewarding because it’s so frightfully easy.

  I direct my prayer toward my salvation, oh Lord, my Destiny,

  I direct my prayer toward my salvation, oh Lord, my Destiny,

  I direct my prayer toward my salvation, oh Lord, my Destiny,

  Three times the prayer touched on Sharon’s lips as she tried to reconcile her thoughts to her morning hot shower.

  I direct my prayer toward my salvation, oh Lord, my Destiny,

  I direct my prayer toward my salvation, oh Lord, my Destiny,

  I direct my prayer toward my salvation, oh Lord, my Destiny,

  ‘Lord, my Destiny’!

  What did that mean, really?

  You are my destiny…

  She recalled the song and began singing as loudly as she could, the perfumed water trickling down her lovely breasts and all around to her coccyx bone.

  She repeated it again with a cha-cha-cha finish, as in … you are my destiny, cha-cha-cha!

  She sang to the pulsating hot shower, in pleasing pain screaming, “You are my destiny.”

  It was no use, for there was no consolation in the stupid concoction meant only for the adolescent heart. It was depressing to realize that the adolescent silly songs totally lacked the Lord’s eternal destiny. Such a stupid pop song fraudulently directing generations towards ungodly love! You, boyfriend, girlfriend, are my destiny? It had no saintly salvation. No human being is another human being’s destiny. Human beings are simply too minute to secure each other’s destinies. Only the Lord Jesus can be another human being’s destiny. Every man and every woman’s life can have meaning only in their heart-felt love for Jesus. He and only He can be our destiny. For destiny, as well as all things, comes from the Lord, and the Lord alone is one’s destiny, for He is the All. Only through the Lord Jesus is life eternal, as the Lord has meant life to be. Destiny manifests itself only through the will of Jesus. Without Jesus there is no destiny; with Jesus only there’s the All. It is in the All that destiny resides, in the union with the Lord Jesus, and not in pop.

  She hesitated; hot water was distending her arteries and increasing the blood flow to her brain making for clearer thinking. She wasn’t sure what ‘destiny’ actually meant, or was. Damn Horace Mann American high school shit that passes for education.

  Reluctantly, she got out of the very hot, hot shower that always made her whole body glow with the odors of the wild ‘fleur de printemps’ body gel she loved to use to make her lovely body tingle. She always felt rejuvenated after a hot shower, pumped up like a virgin looking forward to the first time.

  Get a hold of yourself, Sharon, she laughed. She dried herself very quickly and dropped her towel. Walking through the house butt naked and half wet, she wished she could drop her strange thoughts as cleanly and casually as she had peeled and dropped her white bath towel cooling off her spotless pink ass. As she walked through her house, she fantasized a handsome blond, blue eyed Viking from the dark North entering her from behind, somewhat like Claudio had done. She felt his rough hands fondling her all over her hot naked body.

  “It’s all wrong,” she said. “It’s all so wrong.”

  *

  It took Sharon less than twenty minutes to drive to Magnolia High School, just as the students were being let out. All excited, Justine ran to Sharon’s car, like a child running to her daddy after a long absence. Her face sparkled the cool freshness of a beautiful teenager. In one hurried act she opened the car door and jumped into the seat next to Sharon. She turned toward Sharon, and her eyes were two breathless pools of blue, her cheeks blushing rosy pink, and her smiling lips wore fragrant baby’s breath, all framed in the teenager’s tossed carelessness of her blond hair. She leaned and gave Sharon a long tongue kiss, and out of sight, gently squeezed Sharon’s perked up breasts. In a response that had become a habit, Sharon moved her hand up Justine’s cool, perspiring thigh, all the way up to her panties. The girl was wet with anticipation.

  “Let’s get out of here before someone sees us,” said Sharon.

  “I don’t care,” said Justine.

  In Sharon’s silk covered bed, long legs intertwined with long legs, and roaming hands found the pleasures of the female front and back. Tongues stretched deeper in each other’s mouths and lustfully slurped each other’s juices. Like no man could, they sucked each other’s sweet tasty nipples and gladly arched their backs for easy access. Oh what a beauteous thing it was, their frequent
lovemaking. They were two immortal, wedded women together bound with all the passion and desire for hot sex. Sharon and Justine were of true legendary beauties, and not to have been loved, in all ways, would have been a sin that nature, and perhaps the good Lord, would have never forgiven. No one was going to deny them their lovemaking that day, so they fucked their brains out, as they had on the many previous occasions. With all their senses, they felt the insatiable lust for each other’s bodies because they were so beautiful.

  “We should go,” said Justine, after several winning climaxes.

  “Don’t worry, my love, my lovely love,” said Sharon. “I told Myrna I’d pick you up after school and bring you home a little late. She won’t be concerned knowing you’re with me.”

  “She’s fucking out of it,” said Justine of her mother.

  “Don’t say that, Justine. Your mother is a good woman.”

  “That’s right; she’s an old woman.”

  “What do you mean? Your mother and I are the same age.”

  “Yes, but you’re a little nymphet running through the woods in search for the wild anemones,” said Justine. “My mother likes only young boys.”

  “Are you saying she fucks a lot of boys?”

  “No, no, no; she’s very discreet and particular with whom she keeps company,” said Justine, very adult like. “I’m sure at times she’s listening in on Doug and me when we’re alone in my bedroom.”

  “Justine, you don’t fuck boys, do you?”

  “No, they fuck me.”

  “You should wait until you’re older before you get into boys, Justine.”

  “I’m not into them, Sharon. They’re into me,” she laughed rudely for a young girl.

  It was late and this long day’s affair had gotten a little tiresome.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Somewhere between subliminal faith and delusional fantasies Sharon lost her mind. Unable to withstand a life fast emptying, the vacant road before her smacked of insanity. It was paved with sadness, and the only way out was Jesus. Everywhere she looked, there was Jesus blessing her with an inviting smile right out of her childhood Biblical memories. She found relief in those comforting memories, and being an honest friend, she decided that the time had come to share her Jesus joy with her best friends.