Ace Gray

Author

Ace Gray is the author of absolutely filthy things available on all platforms including Kindle and Kindle Unlimited. She likes eggplant fairies, naughty ice cream trucks, and of course, long walks on the beach. 

Magic City

image courtesy of Scott Shondeck @shondeck 

image courtesy of Scott Shondeck @shondeck 

To many the mountains are an enigma. And with the way mist weaves through timber and hangs on the branches, enveloping full bodies and then drips down in desperate want of the ground, I freely admit there is magic in the woods. This magic and mystery is obscured from those that don’t listen with their hearts.

But there is magic in the city too. A magic more human that is heard and seen and felt from a sunlit park bench. 

In the woods you are disconnected, a single, solitary being. In the city you are but a spoke of the web. Better yet a single sparkling dew drop on the web. You are a story in the city. You are a minor character in a hundred others and a background prop in a thousand more. Every person, every car, bike, sidewalk, tree, statue and building are simultaneously your story and using you to create their own. 

The lifeblood of a thousand people courses through your veins in the city. You can look up at the skyscrapers and glimpse on 50, 100, 500 lives? Someone is getting good news, someone is getting bad news. Someone lost their keys, someone lost their love. Someone found that flannel shirt they’ve been looking for, someone found forever. 

And someone is slowly parting the legs of a lover, letting their hands dance along naked goose bumped flesh. Wandering higher, exploring, delighting, pleasuring and receiving all of those in return. Lips are tracing a simpler path, feeling hot, cold, trembling skin. Hearts are racing even if they’re moving leisurely against soft white sheets. 

At least I certainly hope someone in that building is making love, having sex or fucking with wild abandon in the sunlight. 

Because beams will pierce that glass desperate to find a home on pale naked skin the same way a lover’s hands would. They will warm skin and bring out the faintest flush the way lingering against a lover’s skin would.

Those same beams bring a brilliant and luminous vulnerability to taking, giving and rolling against each other. They are the brilliant spotlight on all that you are, all that you are giving another person. They shed light on all that you are getting, all that wants to be yours too. They soften the edges of the scene so when this moment is fondly remembered in its perfect imperfection the edges are softened; faces and limbs go a little blurry. The sunlight leaves you with the feeling of warmth outside to match the inside long after enhancing the magic of this city moment. 

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