The Man who fell from the Sky

I got back to my long word painting today….I stood back and decided this part is done (for now)

“Hello Simon” in a voice that was murky and chocolate, recognition dawning.

“But I saw you in the street, looking at me, naughty boy! Come, let’s get a drink and find a quiet corner, where I can unravel the mystery man who misses his own première.”

She guided him to a corner where the noise was muted. They sat in the now vacated love seat, positioned awkwardly, close but just barely touching, thigh to thigh.  She smiled and spoke, “I was wondering if you would come.  I didn’t see you backstage after, or in your seat.  I looked.” Her voice purred, low and chocolate, accent indeterminate, only distantly English.  Simon answered, “There was some mixup with the tickets and I managed to get a seat in the balcony.” “Oh,” she said, frowning slightly, “Didn’t your staff take care of this?  Mine go ahead of the limo and make certain of details like that.”

He blushed, “I don’t have staff.  Just me.  And no limo.  I came on the Underground and walked over from the station.”

Liliana’s eyebrows rose and she smiled, laughing a little, “You are an odd one,” she purred again.  “Well you are here now.”  She leaned into him and touched his arm lightly and gave him a peck of a kiss as he turned.  Her intended target, his cheek was missed and their lips met, briefly.  They both felt a slight shock.  Her lips were soft and yielding, wet.  He wanted more suddenly.  He drew back, vainly collecting himself.

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