Names have been changed in order to maintain anonymity, but the characters and events of this story are real.
Read alsoTexas Glory (Mills & Boon Vintage Desire)
THE WIFE HUNT Glory Carson couldn't believe she'd actually agreed to sexy Texan Bram Bishop's unorthodox proposition. For two weeks she would "act" as Bram's wife so the determined wanna-be-groom could learn the husband ropes and lasso himself a real bride. Glory herself had no intention of ever getting married. As a marriage counselor, she was…
Bringing a fantasy to life, or not, is linked to the same weakness which marks a religious man.
«The need to give shape and tangibility in order to believe»
At times we are free from this weakness and we are able to live our lives in a completely realistic way, just as we want to and the limits of reality become unstable and depend on the power of our minds.
Decisive, ruthless, unrelenting and we feel the tremble of pleasure as physicality plays an equal part.
Nature, imagination and violence as instruments of freedom against which reason imposes constraints and, in its way, mutilates «demanding rules and order»
The only ethic which survives the death of reason can be nothing but the ethic of pleasure.
The only ethic which survives reason that is driven to its extreme consequences is pleasure itself.
Give me your hand, hold on tight and don’t let go in this journey which drifts backwards.
We will journey through sensations and illusions, moments when life resembles fireworks and you feel as if you were in paradise while sinking into hell.
Come closer then and put your lips on mine, close your eyes. Let my breath enter your lungs so that it will be my oxygen only that keeps you alive and slowly you will feel lost as if I had breathed a poison into you. No going back.
Both a drug and an illusion.
On the patio of the small hotel surrounded by trees, at the edge of the woods I waited for her.
She should have been there at nine o’clock but she was late.
In my mind I went over everything during the previous month and a half that had led us up to that place.
Messages, e-mails and our long encounters on the web which lasted entire nights at times’ had arrived the night before after a seven-hour journey, stopping only for petrol and after leaving the motorway I had driven up to high altitudes and then down again along hairpin turns among almost virgin landscapes of luxuriant green.
Mephisto was the name of the hotel I had booked.
That name recalled some thin predestined a sort of premonition in my choice which was forced since I hadn’t found anything else nearby. Mephisto, Mephistopheles, almost a sign of fate.
Faust and the devil, but which of us was Mephistopheles and who Faust?
Or were we both demons? Probably!
The soul and the body, sold.
I felt, I knew, that I had arrived there like Faust to sell my soul and body… but to whom? And in exchange for what?
But I was sure and fully aware that I had been the one who had awakened the devil which slumbered inside her, though I didn’t know how much she was in the grip of the new desires which attracted her towards our encounter.
I felt excited, but at the same time afraid of what could happen now that we were about to enter the eye of the storm from which escape would have been impossible for us.
Everything had been planned and we both knew that what we wanted wasn’t just a game.
During the time before that encounter I had shown a perverse seed inside her which had sprouted rapidly in that fertile soil of hers, growing luxuriant and strong like a giant weed.