PART III – The Eternal Flame
I’ve given up my life for you
And still there’s more that I can do
Eternity and that’s for sure
I’ll be with you forever more
Hourii, Hourii
I’ll burn for you
You study stars and moons and tides
For signs of births, of dates, of times
Hourii, Hourii
Who knows what we will find…in our flaming paradise
Hourii, Hourii
Who knows what we will find…in Heaven…or in Hell
Newlan silently wondered what Plante would have thought of the requiem had he presented it to her today rather than when they were scarcely out of puberty, but of course, right about now he had a lot more than just a silly poem on his mind.
Plante’s heavy breathing was turning him on like he had never been turned on before, while at the same time his erotic spontaneity was exciting her in ways that she didn’t think were possible.
By the time Plante’s rhythmic moaning had reached its crescendo, Newlan was utterly aroused, and so he raised himself up and methodically got undressed while she eyed him with breathless anticipation.
And with his grandeur unleashed, Newlan tantalizingly thrust himself towards Plante, rocking her back and forth with spastic, titillating jabs. He repeatedly penetrated her erogenous zone with an almost violent fervor while she simultaneously wrapped her legs around him in a vice-like grip, and as they became one, he couldn’t help but notice that the classic rock tune “Feels Like the First Time” by the 70’s band Foreigner was blaring out of his stereo speakers.
The high-spirited song might not mean much in the grand scheme of our story, but to the music-loving, superstitious Newlan it meant everything. It meant so much in fact that his love-making took on an even greater urgency, if that was at all possible.
…
After what seemed like hours, two entangled bodies laid in each other’s arms, emotionally and physically drained. Plante wanted to go out onto Newlan’s deck and have a cigarette, while he had the urge to jump in the shower, but they were both too spent to even speak; both of them lost in their thoughts; both of them clinging to each other; both of them wishing they could turn back the hands of time.
Eventually, Plante gushed out a five star review, as in a hushed tone she exclaimed, “Wow, that was incredible…I guess you’ve learned a few things since that last time we were together.”
“I guess I have,” replied a subdued Newlan who was in the throes of a post-coitus depression.
Plante playfully tickled Newlan’s stomach and in a frisky tone she placed a request for additional information.
“So…tell me about some of these women who taught you all this stuff.”
“Oh you know, just women I’ve met over the years…after all, I am a single man,” shrugged Newlan, and base on his distant tone alone, it was becoming quite obvious to Plante that his mood had shifted to the right by close to 180 degrees.
“Is something wrong?” hesitantly asked Plante as her women’s intuition kicked in.
“No, it’s just that I was kind of wondering what all of this means. You know, what we just did. I mean, you’re a married woman and all,” once again reasoned Newlan. And from there he went on to deliver a solemn confession regarding his bewildering confusion.
“And I guess I’ve just never been able to forget about how things ended between us. But what’s even more baffling is that, for the life of me, I’ve never fully understood what the heck happened that would cause us to drift apart like we did, almost overnight. All these years, I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out why the hell we even broke up in the first place…and I still haven’t come up with a logical explanation.”
“I know Frankie…I’m so sorry. You deserve an explanation…but I don’t even know where to begin. It would be impossible for me to try to explain it to you when I can’t even explain it to myself…but you have to know that it was never you, it was me. You have to know that I never meant to hurt you…and I don’t mean to get you caught up in my problems now, but…” lamentably replied Plante. However, before she could completely finish her sentence, before she could completely verbalize her thoughts, she hesitated ever so momentarily…and once again she broke down in tears.
“But what?” wondered Newlan in a jeering tone; and though his intentions were never meant to hurt the only woman he ever loved, the words came blowing out of his mouth rather coldly, and they stung her nonetheless.
“But I still love you, that’s what…can’t you understand that?” answered an emotional, tearful Plante. But all the while, Newlan remained impassive and exasperatingly silent as she continued on with her proclamation.
“I knew I shouldn’t have come over here…and I’m sorry if I messed up your life, but I was hoping that somehow we could put the past behind us…and now I don’t know, maybe it’s too late for that. I guess I’d better get going,” reluctantly decided a weepy Plante, and as she rose from Newlan’s bed, she had every intention of leaving him behind for good.
On the other end of the spectrum, as Newlan watched over Plante’s silhouette while she went about the business of getting herself dressed in the darkened bedroom, he just laid there in his bed, physically unclothed and emotionally detached. He watched lifelessly as she slipped on the black bikini bottoms and neatly tied the strings. He watched silently as she swathed the bikini top tightly around her breasts. He watched motionlessly as she collected up the rest of her clothes. He watched and he watched and he watched…but then suddenly an unbearable burden stirred awkwardly within him, almost bringing him to tears.
“For twenty years I’ve been hoping that this day might come, and now that it’s here, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna just let you walk away again without a fight,” angrily muttered Newlan as he ascended from his bed and made one last ditch valiant effort to try to win a war that in the end, just couldn’t be won, regardless of the outcome.
Newlan was still naked as he approached Plante and stood behind her while she continued to hurriedly clothe herself in front of the full-length mirror.
Plante twitched as Newlan’s body rubbed against her backside, and she did her best to rebuff his advances, but he was too strong for her.
Newlan put his arms roughly around Plante’s waist and she held on loosely as he kissed her neck.
Plante half-heartedly resisted, but Newlan wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she couldn’t seem to summons up the will to make him stop.
Newlan untied Plante’s top and tossed it aside while she rested the back of her head against his muscular chest, in spite of her conflicted emotions.
“What are we doing?” quivered Plante, but she got no reply from Newlan who was transfixed by the visage of her supple bosoms as they reflected enchantingly in the lightless glow of the mirror.
Newlan put a hand to each of Plante’s hips and he watched himself in the mirror as he languidly pulled on the heartstrings of her bikini panties until they were once again untied; but she, on the other hand, still had some fight left in her…and she was ready to make one last final stand.
Plante held on to the black spandex material for dear life; it was her last line of defense and for some reason she wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.
But then alas, as the war raged on in her heart, she resigned herself to the fact that her forces were wilting from the strain of Newlan’s sensual barrage. All it took was a strategic assault from his probing tongue, along with a few nibbles to her earlobe…and the battle was lost…she relinquished herself forever from responsibility…to the victor goes the spoils…to the loser goes a lifetime of servitude, no better than a prisoner of war.
For as it has been so eloquently quoted by the great philosophers and poets, dating all the way back to the English Renaissance, “all is fair in love and war”.
And yet the thin white line which straddles precariously between fair
and foul can get so blurred sometimes, that it is difficult to truly distinguish the winners from the losers.
For even in victory, the lofty goals of the campaign can, at times, become so dwarfed by the mounting casualties…until it reaches the point where the unwitting paladin can’t see the forest for the trees.
For even in defeat, the calculating underdog sometimes snatches the ring right out from under the nose of the King…the priceless prize that she treasured all along.
And so the battle-lines are drawn.
With his tenuous ascendancy to the throne in hand, Newlan released the garment and they both watched in the mirror as the skimpy piece of intimate apparel floated down to the carpeted floor like a shedding feather from the cap of a nesting bird.
Plante let out one last gasp of captivated inevitability as she slowly whirled around to face her conquering hero.
Newlan complied by urgently kissing Plante’s puffy lips while at the same time putting one arm around her shoulders and the other arm under her legs.
Plante clasped herself to Newlan neck as he lifted her up off her feet…and all the while their lips never once parted.
This time however, Newlan carried Plante not to his bed, but to his bathtub…and without a second thought he kicked open the shower curtain as he gently lower her into the tub.
Newlan seemed to know exactly what he had in mind as he turned on the shower and let the water flow freely over him until ultimately, at long last, his spirits were rejuvenated; there would be no more shame in veracity. It was as if he were being born again. And with his failing courage fortified, he emotionally confessed to his inamorata.
“I love you so much Marianne. I’ve loved you ever since the first time I laid my eyes on you. I love you more than you could ever possibly know.”
So with his heart laid bare, the two lovers embraced and kissed each other passionately, over and over again, while the warmly flowing water soothed their aching hearts.
As the bath filled to the brim with liquid hope, and as Newlan’s tender words sank into Plante’s enlightened sense of reality, any remaining inhibitions, any remaining fears, that Marianne Plante may have been fending off were being gradually dissolved and rinsed away like a stormy miracle from Heaven.
After all these years, Plante was finally ready to acknowledge the mistakes that she had made with her life, the yearnings she had repressed for far too long now.
And as the water purified her soul like the healing springs of Lourdes, Marianne Plante sank down to her knees and completely surrendered her body to Frank Newlan. And in response to her alluring touch, Newlan closed his eyes to the world and tilted back his neck in ecstasy as the steaming spray massaged his pulsing head.
And in his ecstasy, Frank Newlan prayed to God for forgiveness; in his ecstasy he prayed to God for guidance; in his ecstasy he prayed to God for a sign that the rushing waters, like a cleansing communion, might somehow wash away…all his sins.
From the Eyes of a Juror Page 75