For 'Rix and Ceridwyn... Or perhaps I should say.... Gwynefar....

No Aphrodisiac

A letter to you on a cassette
'Cause we don't write anymore
Gotta make it up quickly
There's people asleep on the second floor


She stood in the cabin, wrapping it carefully, preparing it for travel. When it was finally done, she took it down to the courier, gave him the address, and left.


There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Truth beauty and a picture of you


On the other side of the country, the creature unwrapped the roll, and inside, was the painting.

Gwynefar.

Memories crowded in, the night he painted her … laces wrapped around his hands…. his lips on her skin, the taste of her blood as she wilted in his arms… her rage, beauty on fire, heat growing as he watches her… fiery passion as she writhed in his arms….


You're a thousand miles away
With food between your teeth
Come up for summer I've got a place near the beach


Outside the small cabin, she stood, looking over the gully, and the sand of the beach. The sound of the ocean echoed, and she walked down the hollow till she came in sight of the sea.

Escher… Vittorio…

Such a remote place …. to find him again….


There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Truth beauty and a picture of you
There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Youth truth beauty fame boredom and a bottle of pills

On the beach she began to dance, under the darkened sky, the dark of the moon, abandoned, wild, free, every movement a testament to the unbridled sensuality of her heart….

On the other side of the country, the creature walked out into the night, to hunt, the fire of her memory burning in his mind, warming its blood.


There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Bare feet like a tom-boy and a crooked smile



… standing in The Duxton, the predatory crone and his passionate ward looking out of her eyes…. the angelic, seductive creature that was in truth a long way from heaven….



Truth youth beauty fame boredom red hair no hair innocence impunity


A country between them…. He stands in silence, still, the light of the cigarillo the only illumination, under its hair…. She dances with joy, passion, to the music in her mind…

and a picture of you



The painting hangs on the wall.

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