They say that a picture can speak a thousand words, but never would he have truly believed it if he had not encountered it. Sitting in his studio, he is bored and alone. Browsing through the virtual pages of the internet, page after page, click, click, click, updating his blogs, platforms, and books with the latest contents. He is an Author. Who would have known this beauty behold; Would’ve caught his eye, would’ve been his distraction? He vowed never again to be turned away by such lust, a Samson versus Delilah. Must stay focused on his work, which is important. Couldn’t resist, so he clicked…

A new window popped up, instantly sucked in. Her picture caught him off guard. Why did he ever blink? Lost in the matrix of time, lost in a dreamland of heaven’s sublime. Opening eyes, no longer in reality. Far from home, he found himself. Far from his office study, no computer screens, no fireplace, no old antique desk, he’d usually sit when he composed his prose, his poetic masterpieces. Engulfed into an unknown portal, if you could believe it.

A dream where unknown surroundings were turned into abstracts, no meaning. A faded blur, except for her, this enigma, this cocoa goddess of the sea. She gazes into him, exposing his soul. He stares back into her as time slows, but only around her. He was in awe. Deep brown bedroom eyes are so captivating. Glossy crystal balls, transfixed, he stares in, seeing the future. Those bright full moons seated within her galaxy conjured within him something beastly. Belonging only to God, he knew his soul was not hers to give, but the way her gaze made him feel inside, he would sign it over to her in a heartbeat and suffer the consequences at the end of the day, “Please take all of me.”

“Thump Thump, Bump Bump, Thump Thump…” For a current lifetime of pleasure and sin with her, he would submit. Selling his soul to the devil, just for an hour with her in the present, even if it means hellfire for eternity at the world’s end. “What am I saying? Lord forgive me! I must fight away this temptress, this hypnotic goddess.”

But she is not a soul who beguiles the heart of men; it was not her fault to be blessed with such beauty. The fault was his own, for being weak, so naive. It was the luminescence, her glow; this bedazzle that drew him in. A moth to her flame of magical light. The glow of her skin was the color of pure honey; he tastes it now upon his lips, so sweet. Imaginations are getting stronger and stronger, a dream becoming seemingly real as he continues to sink down deeper. Her hair was like thick spun silk. Long beautiful vines so divine. Entangling him, a lost Prince to Rapunzel’s fishing reel, he’s caught. She pulls him up her dark tower and seduces him.

Eyebrows, he likens them to arching rainbows that overshadow the treasured windows to her soul. Her eyes like rose petals, her lashes control the strength of the wind when she blinks and catches hold of him. A Venus flytrap, he’d gladly surrender, suicide to her death grip. Dimpled poised cheeks like whirlpools pulling him under, swirling his equilibrium around and around, he gets dizzy. But her knowing smile at the same time stabilizes his feet on the tender clouds he now stood upon, heaven-bound.

Her lips were like two crescent moons, thick and perfectly crafted. Soft, so moist, he longed to kiss, to taste its fruit. If it was a strawberry treat up here in the North… He could only imagine the sweetest taste of that peach between her lips, below her hips, down in the South. One day he will have to visit, for he would love to taste its rain. He fantasizes about her smooth touch, a magnetic pull towards embrace. He closes his eyes, letting his mind wander within this dream of wonders. He smirks to himself; her nose was just as cute. A little button that captured that Kodak smile.

He knew if ever that smile should widen, it would be a warm sunrise upon the mind of his horizon. Each breach of her pearly whites would be an hour that passes, as the sunlight gets brighter and brighter still, as it rises within, lighting the flame of desires within him. He stands there basking, lost in her magnificence, just a simple shadow eclipsed by her glory. Her well-carved physique was like the perfect sculpture. He appreciated the detail and contours of it all.

Her bosom held the treasure securely beneath it, which is her heart. Her bosom was ripe for the picking, so perky and firm, “Oh my gosh!” Not only was he a writer, but a craftsman by trade. If he were a tiny vehicle, he would choose to be the rubber tires. Turning off all guided navigation systems in exchange for slowly exploring every twist and turn of her roadways, getting lost in the longitude and latitude of her uncharted coordinates.

Her legs (his body shudders as he sees them in his mind’s eye) are strong support for that round “Apple Bottom” of her greatest pride. A forbidden fruit? He would gladly devour. A work of art? She was indeed one of a kind. Who could resist her? His hands began to tingle; he longed to caress her body so pure. Tracing fingertips, painting all his love and watercolors onto her exquisite canvas’ plane.

As he opens his eyes to ask for her name, his computer’s screensaver had already come up. He was sitting there at his desk for well over 30 minutes in a forlorn daze. Back to reality, he now realized. Looking down, he still had his mouse in his hand. He shook it, clearing the screensaver, bringing her photo back into focus. He leaned back into his chair, clasping his fingers behind his head, looking up at the ceiling, he breathed out to no one near, “Who Are You Photo Enchantress?”

© Vee Nelly