When the Stars Go Blue

Yellow speckles of light flashed and flickered, glossy and dull on the dark water surface. Statik shivered in the chilly night breeze. Her vacant gaze over the harbor abruptly dispelled and she snapped back into acknowledgment of the real world; goosebumps covered her arms, the skin on her fingers cold, thin and crackling. She reached for her cable-knit zip-up sweater and put it on. As the breeze died down, she closed her eyes and took a deep, musky freshwater breath; she opened her eyes and slowly sighed.

For a moment she imagined herself on a charter boat, set out to sea for a fishing expedition. No women allowed on the boat. Statik snorted and kicked an offensive clump of dried mud into the water. "Fucking assholes," she muttered to herself, "I'm not like most women - I can take a fish off a hook and have a beer just like any dude. I don't necessarily have to complain about anything. Whatever."

Statik sighed once more then leaned over the cold steel railing to look at the lapping water on the rocks below. She searched for her warm spot on the rail from where she was zoning out earlier but couldn't find it. She gave up and turned away to walk home. Or maybe she would stop at a bar first.

No, no, who would be at the bar? Strangers? Nah, when you're in a bar, nobody is a stranger, they're more like fellow members of a support group or patients in a mental hospital. You are totally peers and you can totally just go up and talk to whoever you want to, but don't expect to come out with a bring-home-to-mama-boyfriend or a really nice guy who just wants to buy you dinner and just happens to have concert tickets he doesn't want laying around.
Expect two drunk probably depressed, apathetic, lonely losers lovers to go back to someone's car place and have sloppy intense sex then considering a drive home pass out immediately thereafter. Then, in the morning, you do the walk of shame go to breakfast at a diner, hair in a messy ponytail, still wearing make-up from the night before and your penis-lender's second comfiest t-shirt. It could be fun.

Statik looked up at the stars twinkling, fixed and solid.
How can something that seems to move so slow be so beautiful?
It's the same old constellations.
It's the same old planets.
The same old galaxy.
Yet in it's relatively fixed infinity, it is infinitely fascinating, relative to me anyway.
At home, the stereo could be turned on and turned up; drinking and dancing could ensue and none would be the wiser if she passed out on the couch watching reality cooking shows recorded on the DVR. She walked past an open door with a bar inside, purple and green neon lights, and some awful classic rock song seeping down the stairs into the gutter. She plugged in her earphones, switched on the mp3 player and played "When the Stars Go Blue" as sung by Bono and The Corrs.

Where do you go when you're lonely?
Where do you go when you're blue?
Where do you go when you're lonely? I'll follow you...

Statik went home.

Love Comes Tumbling

Statik had been dreaming. She suddenly heard the wind again, the honest truth of reality crackling in her ears, not the muffled softness of the muted dream world she had been in. She dared not open her eyes just yet as she felt the breath of another softly on her shoulder. Adrenaline consumed her, flowing rampant from the back of her neck, between her shoulder blades, around to her chest and beating heart. Her heart...beating louder and louder in her ears. She did not yet open her eyes in order to hide her new found consciousness from the Other, but she feared her flesh would betray her uncontrollable heartbeat.

His scent was metallic and earthy. She could bear it no longer and opened her eyes. The wind blew again titillating her droplet-covered skin and she saw the night and the landscape. She breathed in deeply and turned her head to face him.

Eyes. Black eyes. His eyes held a faint golden glow, like those of a cat's. His dark hair was long and matted, his clothes torn and tattered. Bloody and dirty, it must have been a difficult journey. She marveled at his muscular physique, rugged and rusty with the rosy blush of one whose blood pumped at full power. He tilted his head to one side, his angular jaw and rounded chin prominent in the shadows of the flickering firelight. His black eyes pierced her to the core; she imagined them as the dark water she'd been enveloped in before. He did not say a word. She wondered how long he had been sitting beside her.

"You found your way," she said finally, sitting up.
The Other stared at her solemnly for a moment and said, "It became clear that all roads would have lead to where you are."
Statik mused, "I can't imagine that I am that important."
"I can't imagine why you are here then," he toyed, a black tendril of hair falling in his eyes. "Perhaps I am not so important either."
"That's not what I meant...."
"I know. I am only saying you don't have to be coy."
Statik gave her look of slight frustration, "I wasn't being coy. Just....humble."
The Other leaned in towards her, putting his hand behind her on the rock, smelling her, "I can tell that you are anything but humble and no other could I imagine sitting out here in the Desert alone like this. I have come at your beckoning." He bowed his head, more hair falling, draping over his eyes.
Statik looked up at him. The dirt on his face could not conceal the beauty of his porcelain skin; if anything they only highlighted the intense contrast of his dark hair and brooding eyes.

His head still lowered, her gaze fell upon his darkened lips, relaxed and tempting. She reached out and slid her palm against the smooth curve of his jaw and lifted his face to hers. His eyes were sad yet dangerous, beautiful yet cunning. She traced the outline of his face with her fingertips, gently, from his forehead to his ear, then slid her fingers through his tousled sable hair.

Filled with longing, he sprung to life and eagerly returned the gesture with both hands, palms gliding around her waist and neck, pulling her to him. Statik parted her lips and felt his upon her, the hot metallic moisture of his tongue against hers, shooting flames throughout her body until she was on fire. She moaned. His hands searched her everywhere, roaming endlessly; her body arching into him, burning him.

The muscular Other stood up with her clinging to him. She could not let go of his wild black hair as she tasted him again and again, wrapping her hunter's legs around him, tightening and sliding them down his body. As they neared the dark water, the wind protested but remained ignored. Statik looked behind her briefly, threw back her arms and her head and fell into the water, sinking slowly, beckoning him to follow. He grinned and did not look away from her, did not look out into the Desert, did not care where he was going. He reached out to her and dove in.

The lovers reunited, limbs entwined, tangled up in each other like branches competing for the light. Their lips locked again, tongues touching and releasing. She sucked his bottom lip, drawing it in; he bit into hers gently, tasting a hint of blood; his manhood swelled against her. She reached down to feel it in her hand, brushing against it, holding it, squeezing it, releasing it only to guide it into her.

They surfaced for air. She held on tightly as he grabbed her hips, her bottom, penetrating her forcefully. She writhed in overwhelming sweet release as he dipped in and out, wincing, taking his time and driving the moments onward. He slowed his pace as not to end it too soon, but after a time she urged him on....faster, deeper, it just isn't close enough even though you are inside me, it still just isn't close enough. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades, the muscles underneath moving, working, holding her up. He stiffened and quickened his pace, unable to resist her urging. His breathing turned to panting and he growled into the air as he began to climax. Statik could feel the swelling in her, skyrocketing her into her own simultaneous contractions.

He leaned her back over the rocks, smoothing his hand over her breast, squeezing, admiring. Again they kissed, her pouty lips blood red from the moments before. Eyes closed, cheeks flushed, she sighed through her nose with a satisfied smile. The Other collapsed next to her, weary from his new found freedom.





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Ok well, holy shit! I don't think I can write any more. lol
The ball is now in ol' Irish's court now, but I believe this will be my last post in the Jaguar story. It was an interesting collaboration to be sure! (Ok, I know this kind of seems like a Wam Bam Thank You Ma'am kind of thing considering the content of this post lmao, but I am ready to go back to my own world without the responsibilities of another person's character.) I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. Muah!

In case you were wondering, I was listening to Love Comes Tumbling by U2 when I wrote this.

Blown by the Wind

Night finally came and conquered the landscape and soon the Desert was encased in a transparent darkness. The stars crystallized in the reflection of Statik's eyes; she could not blink as she focused her attention to the growing distance. The warm wind pushed her gently, carving an invisible current through the dark toward the glow ahead.

Statik's heart pounded in her chest like the drums of an ancient war as she approached the solitary flame posted solidly in the ground. She looked around to see if anyone was here. Here in the Desert. This is the place. A half-moon of rock cradled the place where she stood, her eyes hypnotized by the flame from the spiraling torchiére. Eventually they drifted off to the peaks stretching to the West in front of her. The end of the Desert.

Suddenly, a chill raced up her spine and searing blood coursed through her veins. Her body stiffened and the hair on the back of her neck stood out in a wave of fear. She sensed an unexpected presence. She knew in an instant that she was no longer the bloodthirsty Hunter she thought she was....she was the Hunted.

She sat down with her back to a large rock and propped herself up. The only sounds she could hear were the wind and the various nocturnal creatures in the distance. Whatever was out there had not yet gotten to her. For now she was alone. A hint of moisture and minerals in the air distracted her attention from the new presence. The dusty sand and gravel scattered as she got up to seek out the source of it.

Several meters from the crescent rocks she discovered a hidden pool. An unlikely oasis, deep and dark yet somehow inviting. She lowered her hand into the shadowy liquid. It was warm.

She stood up suddenly, sensing movement in the distance. Pain and longing. Confusion and unbridled power. A chaotic and lost sobbing. Statik did not fear this being. It was powerful, yes, whatever it was, but she realized it was not a predator as she had originally thought. It was something else. Something new.

Come. Come to me.
Walk slowly. Listen.
The outside will become the inside.
Walk to the water.
Walk.


Statik walked over to the water and dipped her hand in to scoop up a handful. She brought it to her lips and drank it in quickly. A drop fell from the corner of her mouth to her arm. She went to brush it off and she stopped. She looked closer at her arm, seeing her skin turn pale. Her vision trailed off and she was surrounded by saturated colors bleeding into a sea of black water.

She closed her eyes and sunk into the water, letting the waves and currents take her down. She opened her mouth. The dark warmth poured in, filling her; she tasted red and gold. Her body floated down, limbs relaxed and her hair floating around her. An electric tingling started at her feet and surged through her legs, torso, arms, face and to the tips of her fingertips. She touched herself all over, smoothing out her skin, every sensation telling her she was still alive...and well.

She opened her eyes and could see a flickering light above her. She reached up and could see her hand still in the wavering light of the liquid she had submerged herself in. She swam to the surface and let out a scratchy guttural yell. Arms taught from holding herself up, Statik looked down at herself, wet and breathless. She took in deep breaths and laid stretched out on her back over a nearby boulder. Her spine arched and her bosom heaved upwards as she caught her breath.

A hallucination.

She let out a sigh, pressed her lips together and mouthed some pagan words she herself did not even understand. Droplets of liquid streamed ever so slowly down her figure from all sides, down the rock, down to the ground. The Desert lapped them up greedily as they reached the sand, pulling the moisture down, sucking it in, never to be seen again.

She rocked her head from side to side, waiting now for whatever was coming next. More hallucinations, more wind, more darkness.
The flame from the torch flashed and flickered in the wind.
The sobbing in the distance was gone.

Statik smiled.
It was coming. He was coming.
She closed her eyes and laughed, "COME! COME TO MEEEEEEEEE!"
She screamed a wild holler into the wind and fell into unconsciousness.



***I thought it only fair to mention that this Statik storyline has a new contender, the Jaguar-Man. A new perspective brought to you by the master chef over at Irish Gumbo. We have accidentally come together and decided to collaborate and weave this tag team story together as it comes to us. I'm excited to be participating in such and unusual creative endeavor. Cheers!

If Only Tonight We Could....

Tiny flecks of grit and sand blasted Statik's legs as she walked steadfast deep into the red velvet dunes of the Desert. The warm gusts of wind whipped her hair against her cheek and stung her salty lips. The sun had vanished in the dusky horizon leaving only the sensuous traces of red, gold and blue followed by the warm black of the night ahead. Twilight was Statik's favorite time of day. Suspended Desire. The beautiful intense colors you can get only after the sun has set but night has not yet grasped it's claws upon the Earth. The same beautiful intensity you feel just before a kiss, a first kiss. That kiss that takes years in a single moment to start. Staring, wondering, not surely knowing, wanting, hoping, praying, longing, needing.....until you have to close your eyes so as not to go mad. Heart racing, short of breath, then a fingertip brushes your neck. A gasp escapes your lips from both pleasure and the pain of waiting....and your breath gets quicker....you open your eyes and see that face that haunts your very soul. You see it move ever so close to yours....

It's as if the night was casting a spell. Statik's heart raced the farther she walked on, farther into the Desert, farther from civilization, from people, from noise, from eyes and ears. She knew what was out there. Out in the middle of Nowhere.

She saw her destination before her. A vast, flat, sleeping field of sand and occasional dry brush. Jagged, darkened peaks jutted out in the distance, an echo of giant obsidian spears that must have made the Earth scream in agony as they came forth from the depths. A solitary flame from a torch hovered above the ground a mile ahead. There it is, she thought heavily, He must be there now.

With every footstep, the sky grew darker and darker, the spell casting stronger and stronger. She could smell the dust of sand and stone, the musky hint of moisture released in the air as the earth beneath her relaxed from the heat of day. Almost there.

The wind whipped through her hair again, sending the pin-straight whisps fluttering about like flags upon mountain tops. It felt good. The raw power of the wind, driving her on, no regrets. The wind cannot regret. It doesn't have to. It is expected to flow into your life and to move you, then disappear again...perhaps again and again, perhaps not. Her walking boots crunched the ground as she walked on. The noise of it surprisingly muffled in the deafening quiet of the Desert. Statik took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes. I'm coming.
I will be there.






....to be continued....

On A Beach

Tubes. She woke up in an instant. Her eyes switched on and opened wide. The icy blue iris cracked open as her pupils shrank in the white light. Her body was cold and wet and gray. She imagined for an instant that she was laying on a slick brushed steel gurney, her dark brown hair splayed out like a water-tossed clump of seaweed.

She was not in a teal colored room with white sheets and metal medical tools.
She was not under a cold burning white lamp with tubes coming out of her mouth and various body parts.
She felt rough sand scratching against her shoulder blades, digging into her hips.
Her pinky flickered. She could move, barely. She scraped at the sand with her tiny fingernail. A bit of grit slid beneath. She coughed up water and sucked in the air greedily and hastily letting out a sharp wheezing sound.

As she caught her breath and whisked the water from her tear ducts, she noticed she was on a secluded beach, palm trees to the left, a mile of flat beach and occasional boulders to the right. It was early morning, the sun just coming up. No footprints in the sand.

Statik looked down at her legs stretched out in the sand. She stared at the random specks of multicolored sand stuck to her skin. Normally she would try and brush it off, but didn't feel like it this time. Tugging at her soggy white linen shirt and shorts, she thought to herself, I should be wondering where I am. But I don't care.
She smiled a half smile. I don't care where I am. For all I know this is Utopia. She threw her head back with a pleasurable smirk and felt her damp hair pulling at her scalp like massaging fingers caressing her, soothing her, relaxing her.

She sat up and admired the turquoise vista coming to life in full color with the sun. Nobody around. Just the sound of the ocean waves, bristling and simmering onto the shore in thin bubbling layers. The moment was fleeting.

Surely she must try and get some bearings. Find out what, where, why and how she was here. Life wasn't so bad that you could just forget and forgive that quickly, was it?

Her thoughts shook out of her brain like droplets of water, disappearing in to the sand. Sinister. Without a trace. Just like the story of her arrival. Last she remembered was walking along the city beach, pissing and moaning to herself about going home to an empty bed.

Now she was here. In a solitary paradise. Perhaps an oxymoron.

Statik furled her eyebrow in faint attempt at remembering anything from the night before. She couldn't even remember what she was doing before she fell asleep. Crisp, cool white sheets, wrinkling and bunching as she tossed and turned and slid her hands along their folds. That was the best she could do.

Dreaming. Am I dreaming?
Is this a dream within a dream?
She stood up to look around, feeling slightly woozy, the same feeling one gets when they have been turned on, tortured and teased, then left hanging from afar. A tiny pulse of electricity between her legs distracted her momentarily as she squeezed her thighs together to stifle the sensations. This is no time to be feeling horny. Where the fuck am I? It's nice and all, but what the fuck?

She touched the sand. It feels real.
She touched her chest. It feels real.
She screamed. It sounded real.
She felt the pulsing between her thighs again. And again.
Leading her thoughts, she smoothed her hand across her crotch, hoping to either make it go away or stimulate it more - either might do.

Her mind strayed to the past. A dark rainy night, tail lights in the foreground, yellow lines on the road eaten up as if the car was PacMan in first person. Stay in your lane. Driving down the road, led by passion, led by the heart strings the size of ropes, led by intense yearning, the carrot of fulfillment. Hungry for the touch that ignites the flesh, swelling desire scorching and licking it's way from the inside out. The taste of blood on a tamed hunter's lips erasing all inhibitions, all delays, all the years of collected memories, all logic, all wisdom. Ensnared in a feverish tempest of anxiety and excitement, the car drives on, into the night, over the Flatlands, the Desert. There is no turning back now, she justifies herself. There is no turning back. It waits, ever so patiently for your arrival. In a dark doorway, in a dark house, in the shadows, it is there. It. Lust. Satiation. Forbidden Fruit. Lifeblood.

But not love. It's not love waiting in that secluded hole in the Desert.
It's nothing but a Release. Turn back. Go home to Good Love. Go home to Safety. To Boring. You are Lucky. You're one of the Lucky ones.

Statik shook her head as if something was stuck in her ear. Again the sounds of the beach reminded her that she was in a different time, different place. "Having nine lives could be worse, I guess." she said.

She woke up in an instant. Her eyes switched on and opened wide. The icy blue iris cracked open as her pupils shrank in the white light. She looked over at the alarm clock that she never used and noticed the time: 7:34am. She flopped back down on her pillow. The sunlight flickered through the curtains as they moved in the breeze.

Feels like the winds have changed direction this morning. Perhaps it's time to go for another walk to the water. Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk....
I'm ready to let you in....whoever you are. Just come to me again. I'll let you in. Just ask me to let you in.

Into the Night

She walked along the midnight beach, barefoot, floating and weaving in and out of the line where the water kisses the sand. The sky was dark and endless but the beach was illuminated by an unnatural sickly blue. The glow from some distant fluorescent radiation and the pollution of city lights bathed the sand in a cool ashy white blanket. The cold water on her skin sent chills through her body, goosebumps coming and going with every other step.

What was she doing out here so late, all alone, hair falling in her face in the night air? She looked up at the skyline and felt her heart sink in her chest like a dead weight as she admired the warm glow of the nearest skyscraper. What a marvel. That man can build and build and design such innovative structures. But for what? To house? To provide for? No. These glowing giants in the night do not serve families. They serve money. They serve bastions of egos. They are phallic symbols of man's desire to be recognized for their appearances with the extra pride of being utilitarian as well. Yet she is still in awe of them, regardless of her penis envy, regardless of her half-attempts at feminism.

Statik may do as she pleases, she may follow her whims, she may even be so bold as to say "tell me I can't and I'll show you I can", but she knows her place as a woman. Not that she's saying "there are just some things a woman can't do." It's more of accepting that there are some things a woman doesn't HAVE to do, or rather, why bother doing other than for the sake of proving to men that she can? It's not enough women give childbirth and bear the emotional brunt of catastrophes, family affairs and tragedies? Hospital visits, doctor visits, caring for the sick and wounded, wiping noses, sweeping floors, writing thank you cards, making homes warm and inviting, sheathing a hard working man's cock in the night so that everything is right in the world again....that's a tough job. Does she really have to open a jar of pickles alone? Does she really have to squish that bug? Does she really have to carry a briefcase and wear shoulder pads? Does she really have to refuse a man opening a door for her? Does she really have to wear a uniform and go to war? Must she give up the old ways of fainting spells and not finishing her plate?

The answer to these, Statik muses, is NO.
Being Politically Correct is Bullshit. Seriously, aside from equal wages and voting, the Feminist movement didn't do much for her than eliminate the 70's era kind of tolerance for boorish Man-Pigs.

It is a good thing she wore black tonight.
This way she can blend into the horizon as just another strange silhouette and be left alone. Leave me alone tonight.

As she walked on, the chunky buildings looming in front of her twinkled in their dull, fool's gold kind of way. Unimpressive and sparkling, the artificial lights establishing their nocturnal presence seemed such a waste, considering the center of the city was abandoned after 6pm most days and left as hollow beacons. Just another territorial marking on the face of the planet.

She looked down at the creeping waters, bored and restless. She tired of teasing the ocean with her bare skin and decided to head home. Perhaps tomorrow she would find a way to release her carnal yearnings. For now, she must go home, tie herself to the bedpost and bear the call of the sirens one more time.