“She is a daydreamer,” Antaeus’s words sounded devilish leaving his wife too squeamish to argue.
“Here she is, the girl of my dreams, Angea-Lea my beautiful daydreamer.” She crept down the staircase wearing her special dress for the midday festive feast.
“Who gave you that exquisite dress Angea-Lea?” her mother asked.
Angea-Lea kept the secret to herself Junré understood her silence and decided not to pester her for an answer.
Malachi recognised the scent she was wearing, she had worn it the day they made love. It was unforgettable. But, once again the label fell off and it was a time of interrogation all over again. He wondered who had given it to her. He circled the room like a caged lion then shot the question at her. “Did somebody special give that perfume to you?” Malachi was desperate to know.
“It is a gift from myself to myself and it is called Angelic Beauty,” she answered him in a tone so sweet his temperature rose with rapidity. Sweat flowed from his temples to his chest turning his talcum powder all gooey.
He stared at the collection of eggs hanging from the green branches and told her that she was the most elegant angel of all. Angea-Lea blushed at the sight of his ever increasing bulge as her perfume continuously aroused the deepest sexiest feelings deep inside this honey of a bunny she’d pet named speedy. She signalled to him to hide his treasures behind the sofette.
Delicious roasted soule with piquant butter and julienne vegetables with hollandaise sauce was relishable. A ball game underneath the festive table would make it a christmas to remember. A huge Château de blanc frosted Gateaux added a fairytale touch. They were blissfully happy abiding in the tranquil haven of each other’s heart. Christmas day was Angea-Lea’s birthday a double celebration. They all wished her a happy birthday
Antaeus rose from his place at the table to grab a bottle of rose wine from the cellar, while he was gone Malachi and His angel fed each other tiny chocolate sea shells made from rich belgium choc giving them endless energy to rejoice over their saviour’s birthday. Antaeus and Junré had parted from their company to stack the dishwasher. When they returned to the dining room they caught the cuddling couple in a passionate embrace by the fireside. Junré quietly warned Antaeus to keep his opinions to himself he did as he was told. Angea-Lea harboured no fear wrapped up in her boyfriend’s fiery power and unfailing strength. She caressed his steamy chest with her hands their flame of love was so intense not even the frosty wine nor her father’s chilling presence possessed the power to lower their body heat.
Malachi reached into his coat pocket and presented her parents with a couple of tickets to the Swinglegum concert.
“Care to join your daughter and myself at an Australian concert tonight?” Malachi invited warmly.
Angea-Lea jumped in outrage from her seat and rudely shouted in a fiery temper just like her father would, “What exactly do you mean? I thought we would be going alone, I mean, it is my last evening here – please do not treat me like this, I am not their little girl any longer.” Tears streamed down her freshly painted face of soft bisque. Her eyes became red and swollen. She ran upstairs two steps at a time to her private quarters and lay face down with feet dangling over one side of her bed and screamed her lungs out.
Her mother followed her with a huge box of man-size tissues and some extra choccy seashells. Pretty soon the tears disappeared and so did the seashells.
Her mother sat on her bed.
“Angea-Lea my dear there is something I wish to explain to you.”
A fragment of kindness settled in her cloudy eyes changing their colour to aqua. Her ears were keen to listen.
“Your father and I are honoured to be your parents. I just think that Malachi was only being thoughtful, it shows he respects you and your family.” Junré’s natural zest for life, she tried to express, in a subtle way, upon her special friend – her only daughter.
Malachi had been listening behind the door to her sweet sobs and was drawn to her broken heart. He now stood inches away from her shattered self. His words had a healing touch, “I was only being courteous, every day rain or shine my love will flow from my heart to yours.”
Without a hint of bitterness in his heart all her father truly desired for his Angel was to help her to be what she wanted to be.
“Angea-Lea, you have a dependable family please keep trusting us, I know at times all you seem to hear is daddy’s voice telling you what to do but really we are only trying to guide you, don’t forget us when you go to Switzerland. We truly appreciate being part of your wonderful life but we also understand your need to want to have a fresh beginning and hit a home run. Be like a light and shine.”
Because her father’s words were so encouraging her load became lighter and a bright smile spread across her glowing face. She sat up on her bed.
Her parents were only too pleased to let Malachi have his say once again but this time in a more physical manner than mere words.
He lifted her chin with both hands, lightly sweeping his thumbs across her steaming lips refreshing them with a sweet kiss. The romance heated up for Antaeus and Junré and soon they were kissing each other also like youthful heart-throbs.
“Three cheers for long-lasting love!” Malachi said with excitement. Warm hugs nourished, kept each couple secure empowering them to endure.
“A mother’s love is relief in troubled times and is as comforting as an eiderdown quilt. It is one of those things that make life easy. It can soothe in grief, console in conflict and ease the burden of a troubled mind, such as to free from hardship, pain and care, and promote contentment. A mother’s love is a provision and makes merry the heart as blessings fall from the stars. I will always shine my favour on you the most beautiful Angel of all.” Junré was simply pointing out in her explanation to her beloved daughter that motherhood, in all its true beauty, is as powerful as a tidal wave in all manner of living.
“Mother, thank you for making me and my life so very special. Let’s enjoy these final hours together in true happiness. Angelic Beauty truly exudes from deep within your soul.”
“As does yours my child.” Junré cupped her daughter’s face in her hands.
Together they scrubbed the kitchen, the scraps put down the insinkerator.
All retreated to the living room where Carols of Noëlle were sung to the tune of the harpsichord and birds warbling in the background.
“We are so blessed to have you with us Malachi,” Junré told him and in return he was so happy to share how blessed he felt in the presence of Angels from the City of Light.
They were expecting distant relatives from the South of France but called to say there would be a delay. Just what caused the delay nobody in the immediate Siffleur family quite understood.
They gave wonderful gifts to each other but the most wonderful gift of all being love sweet love.
Angea-Lea eventually told her parents who had given her the new dress. Their reaction was heart-warming, eliminating cold distrust that had covered her heart like a heavy frost killing the delicate fragrant bouquet of rosy hope for such an agonizing length of time.
Are they just being pleasant and understanding because I will soon be leaving for the college? Could this be some kind of plan to keep me from getting to know young men?
Questions invaded her secret serenity until it wiped the smile from her cheery face. Excusing herself, she departed from the family gathering and ran towards her bedroom not saying a word.
“I think she is getting ready for the concert tonight, we must give her some space,” Juné said.
Up in Angea-Lea’s bedroom she was busy searching through her lingerie drawer for a bra and panty set of satin and lace hosting the label Promise Me! The duo she chose from amongst her rich treasures was soft icy blue and see through, the colour was called Glacier.
“The ultimate companions to have clinging to my silky skin, just like my Malachi, so pampering, so pleasureable,” she whispered to herself holding the pantys and bra t
o her bosom.
She wished with all her heart she could take Speedy along for the ride tomorrow, it was so difficult for her to accept her father’s decision for her to spend all her energies on studying flower power in Switzerland.
She could not help but think her father was making a mammoth effort to separate them.
As she refreshed her flesh under a warm shower she cast her fertile mind back to his apartment, his couch. Massaging her vaginal entrance with her soapy fingers and the taps turned off she imagined it was Speedy caressing so softly so sensuously, the ache to climax in his perfect presence was unbearable. After a rinse she slid her middle finger in and out with lightening speed she could feel Speedy’s penis penetrate, the sexual tempo was wild, every stroke tickled, every stroke tormenting then she climaxed at the press of her button, his imaginary semen slipping down the drainhole and at the flash of Malachi’s speeding arrow the suffering and its destruction were shot dead. The angels of heaven rejoiced at the victory and joy shone in Angea-Lea’s heart once again. She dried and dressed into her new celebration frock.
The heavy fog of troubled thoughts that had dulled her mind were quickly rolled away by the radiant light of a promising love rich with the power of renewal.
The ladies donned their coats of Caribou the men their jackets of Jagannathi, they jumped into the car and the archaic Bugatti rumbled towards the Caffé-Latté building for dramatic performances. Antaeus had just sat through one and was looking forward to another, only finer. They handed in their tickets and took their seats in the packed auditorium.
The concert began.
“This is a vigourously rhythmical kind of jazz in which time of melody is freely varied over accompaniment in strict time,” Malachi whispered to his petite Parisian belle, his reigning Angelic Beauty.
“Sounds wild!” Angea-Lea’s eyes widened in mock fear.
He moved closer to his Empress. He was out to impress his Empress through his wild knowledge on the subject of swing. She was hooked. Hooked on swing and hooked on him.
Swinglegum’s style of popular music was a string of melodies that were easy to remember. That’s what made them so popular worldwide with people of all ages and from all walks of life, even Malachi who was thrity and dirty and Angea-Lea who was eighteen and sovereign.
The pleasant atmosphere generated by the swing quartet drew them even closer together that evening. It affected her parents in much the same fashion, mainly because the music was so appealing to all generations from France to Australia.
The peppy, swing tunes like pepsi were a pep-up particularly to the pudencic pubescent. They swung their pubes to the sounds of swing from way down yonder where the grass won’t grow.
“The music they composed had, over the years became for them a big business,” Malachi informed Antaeus and his wife. “See the guy on the end, he is the sole person who creates this soul music they play.”
“Oooh!” they said.
Swinglegum ended the ‘Tin Pan Alley’ concert with two new hits called Dark Shadow and Lady Of Leisure and Pleasure.
It was not the quartets level of sound that almost deafened them but the raucous applause not to mention the piercing whistles from the uncouth youth behind them.
Antaeus and his wife drove Malachi back to his apartment. Angea-Lea begged them to take her inside but was refused the chance due to the fact that she was to get to bed early in preparation for a hectic Swiss flight at five am the next day.
“Thankyou for the active evening,” Antaeus called after Malachi. Malachi thanking them for the ride and the valuable opportunity of getting to know their cherished daughter just that little bit better.
He wished Angea-Lea the best and gave her his telephone number telling her she could ring him anytime.
She was overjoyed and giggled with glee. Her captivating smile was what would hold him together during her absence.
“I would dearly love to see you off on your flight but I have to travel quite a way to pay the landlord his money. I’ll need to get an early start I’m so sorry. I love you!” Malachi’s final words had everyone in tears.
Before she went to sleep that night, Antaeus made her pack her bags, she was to do it alone, she was to make these small decisions, what to wear, what to take in general completely on her own.
It did not anger her in the least not only was she looking forward to life by herself for awhile but a change of scene and a glorious one at that.
She packed her bags and placed them by the door.
After flipping through coloured brochures on the school and its surrounds she fell asleep with leaflets draped over her chest.
Her father had reasoned with her telling her it would be the best for her that she cut short her holidays and leave early in order to settle in at the new school.
In all the rush to get to the airport on time she left her diary behind on the bedside table forgetting to lock it.
She was on her way to freedom, or so she thought.
Angea-Lea tossing over Malachi in the shower
Chapter Four
Swiss folk, with a passion for liberty, amicably welcomed Angea-Lea Siffleur to their lillputian European land. Charming snowy peaks cloaked more than half of Switzerland the wonderland. Immunized against foreign opposition, the Swiss League reigned over and united its people. French, luckily for Angea-Lea, was one of the three official languages commonly spoken in Helvetia. Already, she was happy to be part of the “Island of Peace’ with its people so proud of their long independence. “Switzerland, although restricted in natural supplies remains a booming nation of industry,” one of the college entrants had told her. It was also the home of mouth-watering swiss chocolate, Angea-Lea’s favourite munchy.
Its people, beautiful at any age, particularly the males, dominated the wide circle of friends she would come to know during her stay.
Making friends, for Angea-Lea, was an easy task. Her outgoing personality was her most favourable attraction. Once acquaintances became well-known friends, they soon discovered her second, most outstanding quality, her motto for life: “I excel in everything I take in hand.”
She searched the campus map for the location of the Library, pinning her name tag to the left side of her cardigan on the way.
She walked into the Library like a catwalk queen. Her supermodel-like figure and features representing the unchanging visage of french beauty.
Whilst she combed the shelves for helpful books pertaining to the subject of floral arrangements, she sensed the eyes of a stranger following her every move. She nervously combed her fingers through her sleek gold hair.
Glancing over her shoulder she caught sight of a dark and exotic-looking teenage boy. He was seated in the corner.
She neared him.
“What is the name of the book you are absorbed in?” she asked him boldly.
“Flowers of The Australian Bush,” he replied. His attractive smile occupying that feel good factor, that subtle freshness.
She raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes at the word Australian, pushing all thoughts of Malachi to the rear of her mind.
“To what do you attribute your sexy looks?” he so cheekily questioned.
“Good looks stem from inner harmony. What is your name?” Her face as red as beetroot at his personal question.
“Anthonee Flair. I am Eurasian,” came the reply. “And yours?”
She fluttered her brown curly lashes at him. “Angea-Lea Siffleur. I am French.” Her smile melted his heart. He smiled a cute grin in return, his teeth glossy and straight. He answered in return, “I gathered that from the musical tone in your tongue.”
She blushed again.
He looked intently into her dazzling carousel pony pin opulently coated in a godsend of golden gorgeousness like her blond mane. The pin was delicately attached to her dusty lilac cardigan and positioned slightly above the fullest part of her right bosom.
His fleshy fingers were shaky, lacking coolness, as they whirled the glimmering
bejewelled carousel of ponies succeeding a blink, a wink and a twink.
Her mammary glands ached as her tiny paps received their signal to stiffen. The corner of his eye marked their noticeable protrusion. As he nervously pulled his hand away he deliberately brushed his lusty knuckles ever so tenderly over her excited right nipple.
* * * * * *
Malachi spent the day motoring after attending The Paris International Motor Exhibit. He hired the latest fourwheel drive a Peurgeot Mountaineer and had driven to the location of Alfredo Romanique. By one p.m. the contract was signed, the cheque presented, the fully furnished floating apartment now his.
The form for the competition he had entered earlier was signed, sealed and delivered to its destination. He was to learn of the results in two months.
He had spotted the car of his dreams at the Paris International Motor Exhibit, but was warned by France’s Fair Trading Minister, sixty-four years old Jean-Pierre Cartre, “Do not be tempted to impulse buy there are dangers in rushing into buying a new vehicle. Count the hidden costs. Consumer research tells us to avoid racing to sign a contract or you may be subjected to neuralgia due to buyers remorse if you choose not to carry out your own calculations through thorough investigation.”
It was boomed out over the loud speaker – not to realise too late that one may not be able to afford the model one has in mind. It was good advice to read and understand fully the terms and conditions of the contract before signing – the message was for the youth particularly, to take into account other hidden costs like Insurance, Registration, running costs and any repairs that may not be covered by the warranty.
He thanked them for their attention and wished them well should they decide to buy later.
It was a freak thing, Malachi thought, for the Minister to lecture consumers on how to buy at an Auto Show. In a few short minutes, following the speech, the youth at the Auto Display started chucking rotten tomatoes at the Minister, the organisers watched sadly as interested would-be buyers walked away disappointed. As a result International car sales dropped by twenty per cent that month.
Angelic Beauty Page 5