Narciso enamorado

Narciso es caprichoso. Siempre ha sido caprichoso. Pero no siempre ha sido Narciso. Las abejas del aprendizaje liban en flores inesperadas.
Los dioses del Olimpo son avariciosos, codician lo que no tienen. Atacan, persiguen, seducen, engañan. El estupro como posesión.
Un caballero nunca habla de sus conquistas, pero se le presuponen amplias y variadas. Los motivos de esas conquistas también son amplios y variados. El deseo restalla por causas caprichosas. Unos labios dulces y voluptuosos que esconden una sonrisa que un colmillo torcido vuelve maliciosa. En otra, largas piernas femeninas de andar equívoco. Un ingenio irónico y expresión sarcástica. Una piel dorada como trigo maduro. El deseo se enciende con distintas chispas, pero siempre es fuego que quiere poseer, quemarse en él, como si el sexo fuera un robo, el hurto de lo deseado. Hasta que un día ya no desea más. La caja fuerte está llena, no hay más joyas que robar. Su cabello es gris y su rostro ya no es terso ni inocente. Pero el espejo le demuestra que todavía es capaz de desear. Furiosa, caprichosamente. Se gusta tanto que se codicia a sí mismo. Porque el cofre que es su yo está lleno de tesoros, robados o no.
En su vejez, Narciso es feliz como nunca lo ha sido. Conocer a otro Narciso es una felicidad que va más allá de la posesión. Soy yo y soy otro. Narciso está enamorado.
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Lazy days

Lucy extendió la manta sobre la hierba y se sentó. A pocos metros empezaba la arena y más allá el mar. Dejó el cazamariposas a un lado y abrió la cesta del pic-nic. Una copa, un plato, un juego de cubiertos. Una servilleta. Almuerzo en soledad.
La vida en F. Land es más fácil, pero no sabe si es ignorancia o realidad. El desconocimiento de la ley no exime de su cumplimiento.
Lucy abrió la botella de soda y bebió a gallete. Mientras comía un sándwich de pollo frío y lechuga las abejas volaban, las gaviotas volaban, incluso las moscas. Pero ella estaba varada en tierra. ¿Realmente era F. Land o sólo un espejismo?
El murmullo del oleaje acompañó su comida y, cuando de la manzana sólo quedó el corazón, arrulló su siesta. Bajo el sol y entre la brisa, Lucy soñaba.
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Soy un oasis datilero

Suddenly there was a bright green spot on the horizon. He got closer and closer as he looked at a splendid, exuberant wild garden. Palm trees, apricots, bougainvilleas. He blinked once, twice and still it was there. In the middle of nowhere, miles and miles of nothing, days and weeks of sand and now that! The bloody Garden of Eden! Funnier, Eve was there too! Or, at least, a woman. She was sitting on the well and the adventurer could only see her bright green eyes. The rest of her was covered with rainbow clothes.
"Good morning, ma'am" said the adventurer "nice to find you"
"I'm always here, but they are few who can see me, and even less who stop"
"I can't understand why, ma'am"
"It's my fate, my curse"
"I'm not at my best, but if there's something I can do..."
"How kind, my dear, but there's no solution"
"I can't even start to consider it but, did you offend someone? Has some witch something against you? Some hex?"
"I could believe that"

"Nobody stays with me"
"I'll stay"
"How long?"
"A few days"
"And then you'll go"
"I'll send you a postcard"

"Come back now and then to see me"
"Promise"
"Sure?"
"It's your fate"

She was a goddess, a spirit of the water, a promise of the promised land. Maybe the youngest daughter of a camel's merchant. Who knows? She was joyful and lovely. She was an oasis to everybody who travels beyond the borders.
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Last call! All aboard!

The worst and most powerful curse is unsatisfied desire. It causes the worst kind of lust.
The adventurer had lost the count of the days and nights he had spent in that madness of lust. Of all the deadly sins, he was cursed with lust and laziness. But laziness was an easy path. Lust... lust obsessed him, darkening his mind's clarity until the entire world around seemed bathed in ambrosia and his mind wasn't able to go beyond his twisted senses. Then, when that happened, there was no hope.
The adventurer travelled on a train the windows of which were all curtain-closed. The rails formed a circle. The train didn't stop. He walked along the corridors while people were inside the compartments. He knew it, but the curtains never opened. He was condemned to just walk and try to look, never to get in. Just imagination.
The train that was his mind was lost in a perfect circle.
Then he saw a bright green spot on the horizon.
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Howling to the moonlight on a hot summer night

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"It's been a long time"
"Meaow"
"Where's the bloody shirt? The white one? I can't find anything. Why can't I find anything?"
"Meeaow"
"Maybe that's not healthy. Do you think it is? I don't know when was the last time I was here and that's not right, is it? Because this is my place and I've not been here in a long time and there's no way than that can be right. F. Land is a perfidious land and now I'm trapped in it. I know I am!"
"Meaow"
"What am I doing?"
"Meaow"
"What's a good thing is that I really don't have a cat"

"Yet"
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Following a blue camel

The sun was abrasive and the sand reflected the boundless desert. Extremly cold nights and suffocating days. The adventurer was lost in his sinful lust. Suffering and tormenting himself.
Then, a bright green spot on the horizon. He blinked and the spot vanished. The lust returned. Visions from hell. Memories. Who knows? He was touching Pem's back, caressing Penthesilea's long legs, kissing Merry's neck.
When it was full night he was trembling with cold and loneliness. And with need. His cock hard and begging.
He, the bloody heartless, was, as always, being punished by and for his flesh. He was paying with blood the bill for all these years of twisted love. His body still wanted to leave marks on these other bodies. All over them. They had poisoned his mind then and he felt it even now. Merry with his dirty talk, Pem with his dirty hands and Penthesilea... she was all dirty.
Despite what it looked like, the adventurer wasn't trying to let himself go. But still it was a path, a painful path, he had to walk. A fight. Against greediness. His mind knew it was a vain attempt, stealing with your body what you covet in another body. But his heart didn't. It was a painful path. But he had to.
Then, there it was again. A bright green spot on the horizon. Maybe bigger. Closer? The adventurer sighed, disbelieving his own eyes.
He wanted to walk without monsters at his back.
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4 Queen Anne's Court, Tothill Street, Westminster.

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"Would you like a drink? "
"Intravenously!"
But after the drink it was always work. Something had to be done. And he did it.
"I'm a herbicidal maniac, didn't you know?"
Because the job was done and now the garden was healthy. He cleaned his hands under the garden tap and afterwards he rested on the deck chair while with a handkerchief from his pocket he took away the sweat from his forehead. He looked at her hopefully but under the corner of the handkerchief his smile was mischievous.
"You diabolical mastermind, you!"
But she said it with sparkling eyes and so it was. They shared dinner. He deserved it, didn't he?
TV in F. Land was a bit unpredictable. That evening they watched the adventures of an inefficient chief inspector ("Just painstakin" Rupert protested) and his greedy young seargent as they tried to find out the link between the sexy and punctual Ophelia in the woods and the dominatrix in the stable.
"I like this Ophelia" Lucy said "she's glamourosly lying in bed and all around her are trees and leaves and flowers, but she's on silk sheets. I do I like her style."
She watched the series thoughtfully, admiring the antique bed on screen.
" I've always rather fancied myself in one of these."
"So have I... I mean, I have too."
"Oh Rupert, I like this game!"
"Let's play another round, my dear."
"Is that a proposition? "
"More of a sly suggestion. "
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The truth about Cosima

On the stage, a fat man crying and singing about his tragic love. It was really impressive. Touching. Lucy had gleaming, wet eyes. Rupert looked at her.
In the kitchen they shared tea and sandwiches. Lucy sang quietly. Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore, non feci mai male ad anima viva! Outside it was raining. As always. Inside it was cosy and smooth. They played chess and Lucy was defeated shamefully quickly. It was a quiet night. She was sitting on the armchair, little and soft, like the cat she didn't have yet, taking slow bites of biscuit. Another teapot was ready. Rupert was stretched over the sofa, playing the ukelele. He was looking at her.
Often, he smiled.
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The wisdom of the lizards

The explorer was out of his mind, lost in his trial of lust. Following a kiss from hell he found a lizard, peacefully sleeping under the sun on a rock. The radiant yellow keeping away the fears of a whole live. The lizard was a sign of the Powers That Be (if They really Are), the steady sword against lust. The wisest way to live on the earth.
But the heat was inside him. Until it went out. Sometimes in the dark, sometimes on a lazy afternoon. But always crashing against other hot flesh, going deep and hard inside someone's tight arse. Deeper and harder. Screaming in pleasure.
The lizard warms its cold blood under the sun. Taking a nap.
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Cherries and peaches

Un inesperado chapuzón, un tonto tropiezo, un par de días de mala caza. Una mañana sus oídos ensordecen y se le nubla la vista. Está inconsciente antes de estampar la cabeza contra un roble.
El aventurero está herido. En su delirio ha vuelto a Babilonia. Las gatitas de Penthesilea se ocupan de él. Están ahí. Siente el calor. Se quema. ¡Arde! Hay llamas bailoteando a su alrededor y cada una tiene el rostro de un desamor. Están todos, incluso los que ya no recuerda o nunca supo. Algunas caras son más que familiares, son una llaga siempre supurante. Siempre dolorosa. Pero algunos remedios a veces le alivian. Como ahora. Sus manos ciñen carne blanda y suave, rizos que huelen a hierba caen sobre su frente, hay otro aliento mezclándose con el suyo. La oscuridad es absoluta. Se deja besar y lamer hasta que se le retuerce la piel en agonía. El aventurero le busca el cuello con los labios y luego baja hasta dejar puntiagudas marcas de dientes en los hombros carnosos. Hay fuego y tormento y no puede soportarlo. La tumba en el suelo con las manos sobre la cabeza y saquea su boca complaciente. Con cada embestida repite "no puedo evitarlo". Sus gemidos se pierden en la oscuridad.
El aventurero está herido de muerte. La insatisfacción mata.
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