Cannibal 4H Chapter 14: The Eyes Have It by Eurytion

ANNELIESE SAT MOTIONLESS at her kitchen table, her eyes fixated on the photograph in
front of her.  A candid shot taken outside with a inexpensive point and click camera, the
composition was amateurish.  The subject was too far to the right and part of his head was cut
off.  But, to Anneliese, the photo couldn't have been more entrancing if Anne Leibowitz had
taken it.

The subject of the photograph was a gangly young man of medium height leaning on a walking
stick, his left foot wrapped in an elastic bandage.  His multicolored shorts revealed thin, sinewy
calves partitioned from the more muscular upper thighs by a pair of knobby knees. A fraying
yellow golf shirt covered a midriff with just a hint of baby fat showing. 

The face in the picture was nicely rounded with a sly, cherub-like smile playing mischievously
across its surface.  The beginnings of a moustache sat scraggily above the Cupid's bow of his
upper lip resembling the first set of quills on a young porcupine.  A single mahogany curl
drooped over the left eyebrow while a dusting of fine freckles mottled the exposed portions of
his body.

What was missing from the photo, thought Anneliese, was his intensity of his eyes.  You could
see them on either side of that simous nose but the two-dimensional shot robbed them of their
vitality, rendered them flat and lifeless. She had often lost herself in their gooseberry deeps which
could express more emotions than a knighted Shakespearian actor.

They had met in a bathroom of all places and not even a coed one.  It was at a football game. The
line into the women's room was 30 people deep and moving at the speed of a glacier. Anneliese
couldn't wait any longer. It was find a stall now or pee in her panties. 

Choosing the least embarrassing option, she had bulled her way into the men's room and, with
eyes adverted from the rows of men relieving themselves at the troughs, burst into the first toilet
that became available, almost knocking down the departing occupant in her urgency.

Her cheeks suffused with blood, Anneliese left the bathroom with as much dignity as she could
muster.  Moving at a quick but poised pace she strode from the lavatory with her head held high,
a bit too high because once outside she stumbled over an unseen depression in the sidewalk.

A pair of hands encircled her waist, keeping her from tumbling to the concrete. As she regained
her balance she looked up directly into a pair of animated greenish grey eyes alight with good
humour. Her pointed retort at being grabbed mutated in her throat escaping as a quavery "oh,
thank you."

"My pleasure," he said without a trace of irony, as his tapered fingers released their steadying
hold on her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine thank you. I just was in a hurry and wasn't watching where I was going."

"I know. That seems to be a problem with you today."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hey, no need to beg. I accept your apology."

"You accept my apology?"

"Sure, for running into me."

"I didn't run into you. All I did was trip. You're the one who grabbed me."

"No, no, no, not out here. In there."

"In there?"

"Yeh, back in the men's room. I was coming out of the stall when you sailed into me. I just wish
our linebackers could get by people that fast."

"That was you?"

"That was me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run into you. It's just that I needed to, well you know. And I
couldn't get into the women's room, the line was too long. I don't usually, no not usually, never,
I've never gone into the men's room before but it was either that or..."

"Don't worry about it.  I've already accepted your apology."

"You have?"

"Sure that's how this conversation started, remember. Any way, you're not the first female to
invade our sanctum sanctorum.  We get at least a half dozen every game. There's one who comes
in twice or three times a game.  The story is she's checking out everyone's equipment to find a
partner for a postgame celebration."

A chill tone added frost to Anneliese's voice. "Please be assured that my purpose was not, as
you put it, to `check out anyone's equipment.' My visit was propelled by the simple need to
relieve myself. Nothing more and nothing less."

The young man's smile widened, his skin around his eyes crinkling as they grew merrier. "Believe
me, I know that. I've got the bruises to prove it, remember?"

"Of course, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm  embarrassed by the whole thing."

"I've already accepted your apology.  You don't strike me as the cringing, obsequious type. No
need to say you're sorry again."
"So if I'm not the cringing, obsequious type, what type am I," asked Anneliese curiously.

"Ah, a dare from the lady. Never let it be said that The Great Sebastian failed to answer a
challenge."

"The Great Sebastian?"

"Yep, that's me, Sebastian Poole.  My mom named me after the Cornel Wilde character in The
Greatest Show on Earth.  My dad said it was prophetic, that somehow even back then she knew
I'd be taking risks like a high wire artist."

"And do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Take risks?"

"Sure, what's life without risks?  I'm taking one just now talking to you.  If I say the wrong
thing, you'll turn around and walk away, dismissing me as a buffoon. But if I say the right
thing..."

"If you say the right thing?"

"Then a whole new universe of possibilities opens up for us.  Who knows what might happen.
But enough procrastination, it's time to spin the wheel.  Just one question before I start, what is
thy name oh fair maiden?"

"Ann. Ann Dracon."

"Buzz, sorry wrong answer," said Sebastian. "What's your real name?"

"That's it, Ann Dracon, that's my real name," she replied beginning to wonder if he wasn't just a
buffoon after all.  What kind of person goes around calling themselves the Great Sebastian?

"Nope, Dracon is your last name all right. But Ann has to be the diminutive of your first name. I
think your full first name has to be longer, more poetic but not trendy. Angela isn't right, you'd
call yourself Angel or Angie. Annette is too Mickey Mouse Club/Beach Blanket Bingoish.  You
don't strike me as an Annette. It's got to be something like Annabel,  Anika or maybe Anthea.
Come on, fess up.  What is it?

"Anneliese," she said unaccountably pleased by his deduction. Maybe there's more here than I
thought. "But only my family can call me that. To everyone else I'm Ann."

"Interesting construction of that last sentence. Very revealing you know.  Most people would
have said only my family calls me that. You said only your family can call you that. Well, Ann
Dracon I want you to look deep into my eyes while I delve into your innermost secrets. But
first, let's step over here, out of the way of this crowd." 

With a small start, Anneliese noticed that they were still standing almost directly in the path of
the men and boys leaving the bathroom, forcing the line of exiting males to walk around them.
Sebastian took her hands in his and gently pulled her aside. When they had cleared the pathway,
Sebastian let go of her right hand and reached up to adjust her face slightly upwards until their
eyes met.

Regaining his grip on both hands he gave her an appraising look, his eyes seeming to measure her
very existence. Sphinxlike he continued his examination.  Just when Anneliese thought she should
pull away, Sebastian gave a insolent wink and released her hands which fell limply to her sides.

"OK, what type of women is Ann Dracon?  Well, to start with Ann Dracon is smart, very smart
and she knows it.  She's organized, neat as the proverbial pin, believes that cleanliness might not
be right next to godliness but it isn't too far away.  A real `place for everything and everything in
it's place' person.  And that includes people.

She's scrappy and determined, almost like a terrier in that regard. Once she gets that rag in her
mouth she's going to shake it until it gives. Very iron willed. Resolute almost to a fault. 

"The face she reveals to the world isn't always the real her. She's like an iceberg, 7/8ths of her is
below the water line where it can't be seen.  She likes people, enjoys company but doesn't like to
get too close to any one individual and doesn't let any one individual get too close to her.  She's
outgoing but part of that extroversion is a role she plays. I sense she does a lot of role playing to
cover up who she really is.  Inside she's a private person, very reserved, often uncertain. 

"Despite that control, I think there is a very deep and real hunger there, a longing to experience,
almost to consume her surroundings, to touch, taste, feel everything. Any one who does break
through that protective wall is going to have their hands full."  

My god, thought Anneliese, who is this guy? Is he a stalker?  Has he been following me? How
does he know these things?

"I sense not quite emptiness," Sebastian went on all the while gauging her reactions to his
revelations with a penetrating eye, "but a waiting for something, maybe a need to find a purpose
in life, something bigger than herself to believe in and to work toward. She's got real leadership
qualities inside her.  If she had been a male back in the 10th century she'd have been a crusader
with the Teutonic Knights. If she did have any previous lives she was probably a suffragette in
the 1910's.

"That's not to say she's perfect. Even with that sense of restraint sometimes she wears her
emotions a little too close to the skin, gets too agitated at the little things too quickly. She has a
tendency to pigeonhole people, more of that `everything in it's place' syndrome but she's
intelligent enough to recognize this tendency and reevaluate based on new information. She
doesn't suffer fools gladly.

"Even though she tells herself she doesn't need anyone, she knows she lying. She's looking for a
partner, someone to have a relationship with that will be as lasting as diamonds, someone who
will help her get settled in the right place like a pillow on a sofa. As independent as she is, there's
a part of her that wants to place herself under someone else's complete control. This part of her
wants to be mastered but only by someone with whom there is mutual love, affection and
emotional trust, who knows she's special and significant and who respects and values her and the
gift of her submission."

Anneliese began to feel like she was swaying on the edge of a promontory during a raging storm,
the beating in her chest imitating the thunder of the ocean breaking on the rocks below. He's right.
I'm like a story he knows by heart.

"There's really only one more thing I know for sure about Ann Dracon."

"What's that," asked Anneliese struggling mightily to maintain that reserve Sebastian had so
rightly identified.

"Her favourite food is shrimp."

That simple statement, "her favourite food is shrimp," jolted Anneliese from her reverie like a
shot of black expresso.

"Now how would you know that?"

Sebastian beamed like a little boy who had just found a red bicycle under the Christmas tree.  He
reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Anneliese.  It was a
half off coupon for the "all you can eat" shrimp dinner at Captain Joe's Seafood Wharf.

"You dropped this when you bumped into me in the bathroom."

A month later, in a small room whose walls danced with the shimmering bands of butterscotch
and tortoiseshell luminescence cast by flickering candles, they made love for the first time.

Tenderly, as though dealing with a wild and frightened animal, Sebastian set out to calm
Anneliese's disquiet. With slow, precise movements he underdressed her, matching the removal
of each layer of her clothing with the discarding of his own, inviting but not commanding her
participation in the unfolding of events. 

Sebastian's unhurried demeanour demonstrated the consensual nature of their undertaking, saying
without words to Anneliese that we'll proceed at your pace, act only when you are ready, go
only as far as you want to go.

Her muscles, as tense as though stricken by tetanus, had relaxed and softened under the delicate
ministrations of his hands, their gentle kneading gradually bringing out a more urgent needing in
her.   The anxiety that had coursed through her body like an electric current had changed as if it
had been run through a transformer, fear of what was about to happen converted into
anticipation.

Fingers pressed her flesh more firmly, their growing pressure communicating that Sebastian
shared in her spiralling excitement.  His lips descended on her open mouth, bruising her lips
against her teeth. Their tongues duelled like a pair of lingual sabres; thrust, parry, counterthrust,
surrender. 

As the kiss was broken, Sebastian ran his hands in small circles down Anneliese's chest until
they reached her upthrust breasts, his teeth nibbling at her ears and neck.  Anneliese moaned as
he rasped his fingernails across her erect nipples, their pebbled surface imitating crinkled
thimbles.  

The young boy lowered his mouth to her tits, alternating sucking and chewing on their heaving
surface.  His hand moved down to toy with the hair above her mound, a spicy smell emerging to
perfume the air as his thumb rubbed vigorously against her clitoris. Anneliese could feel the lips
of her labia unfolding like a chaise lounge on a warm summer afternoon.  

Arousal began to overwhelm the last remnants of Anneliese's reserve.  Her nails dug into
Sebastian's back, gouging their way south from shoulders to a tight pair of buttocks, leaving
bright red furrows in their wake. Then, with a move as sudden as a salmon surmounting a dam,
Anneliese body arched upward throwing Sebastian back.

She grabbed Sebastian's face in both hands and peered intently into his eyes, the green orbs
reflecting back not only her own concupiscence , but a admixture of compassion, concern and
commitment.

"I'm a virgin," she said simply.

"So am I," replied Sebastian, his eyes growing serious as he bent his mouth toward hers.

Releasing her hold, Anneliese laid back down on the mattress, her legs spreading to make room
between them for a knelling Sebastian.  Her arms reaching out for him as he stretched his lanky
body over hers.  Both bodies trembled as they made contact.

With one hand Anneliese widened her already parted pussy, the other firmly grasping Sebastian's
pulsing manhood, hot and slick to the touch. Using her own fingers she carefully slipped him
inside her, like a boat gliding into its slip.

Gentle thrusting gave way to more forceful action as he battered against her resistant hymen. She
pushed back with equal vigour, wanting, needing to feel fulfilment.  She felt the tear as he burst
through, marking her passage from maiden to woman.  Hearing her short, sharp exhalation of
pain, he stopped, unwilling to go on until her the movement of her hips reassured him, drawing
him deeper, urging faster and faster movement.

A sense of frenzy engulfed their lovemaking, the sheer eager excitement of their first joining
overcoming any clumsiness. Touching, stroking, devouring each other, the sounds of their passion
filled the air like a sensual symphony composed for an orchestra of two.

Their orgasms came on them suddenly, an accident at the busy intersection of their bodies.
Sebastian felt as though he was exchanging his soul for another's while Anneliese felt like her
very body had burst into a rapturous bonfire, the flames climbing to the highest heavens.

Savouring their newly created union, they came out of their mutual trance slowly like skin divers
pausing in their ascent to avoid the bends. No words passed between them as they continued to
caress each other with languorous feather light touches. Words were unnecessary now and would
even distract from the moment. Their silence had a frequency all its own, the quiet broadcasting
their understanding of the true meaning of what had just happened.

They fell asleep in each other's arms, a pair of mummies entwined in the wrappings of love,  the
true murmuring of their hearts guiding their way into their dreams.
