Standing at the Edge of the Cliff – from Flight2Love  TM Disclaimer: Explicit Adult Themes, 18 and older. The following excerpt is fictional. Any references to real life characters is merely coincidental. 

I didn’t mean to break you, I just wanted to help you along.  I’m sorry I’ll have to leave you on your own.  Know that I will love you forever, even as I crossover to the next life.”  

Her mother’s last prophetic message one week before her passing.  One week prior to the dream Claire had of a large procession and kissing the elegant gold-accentuated mahogany box they laid her mother’s body to rest in.  Looking at her lifeless she’ll knowing her soul was on a one way trip to that Universally-acclaimed paradise.  Knowing her mother’s prolonged illness was now over with and her immortal energy now one with the Universe did not help her own mental state.  Her mom was born again at the same season as Claire lost her own religion in everything sacred, including God of the cross she wore between her breasts even when she worshiped her idols of lust, kneeling beside her bedside altar.  

Claire saw her life at a crossroads.  She was standing at the edge of an ocean cliff in Malibu.  Still heavily intoxicated with marijuana and a combination of prescription pain killers from trying to slit her wrists and cutting herself across the chest.  Holding a glass of the best wine money could buy; Antoinette’s favorite from her days of laying with her in Raleigh, North Carolina.  

The cool breeze blowing her loosely fitting night gown; braless but with a pair of red panties which accentuated her sinfully perfect heart-shaped ass.  Spreading her arms out wide, her legs like a ballerina dancer ready to dance before an audience of one.  

Claire’s tease with death was always a game with the force of nature before her; exposing her body to the elements, wanting to be fucking the hurricane while flying high like an airplane with her escape hatch open.  

Imagining her hand as if Antoinette’s mouth is eating and licking her cream out like those white powdered puffs they would get as kids at the Asian-owned Dunkin Donuts down the street from their high school in neighboring Cary.

Her dreams were more courageous than her real life self.  She keeps killing herself in these recurring private moments, usually after 3 am and many times a wicked concoction of vodka, gin, and pot just before bedtime and asphyxiation sexual fantasies with her ex lovers, especially the deceased Toni whom keeps teasing her with a sexy yet pale body covered in blood and sweat. 

Her and Toni would play these sadistic passion games as if actresses in some cheesy horror porn flick; one holding the knife across the others neck.  Tracing it along the outline of her breasts.  The feel of cold steel as another hand stimulated her clit with such presicion and grace you’d think she was the Serial Rapist stalking young college sorority sisters and climbing through their open of unlocked windows at night as they dreamed of Incubus fucking them like the frat guy who was too drunk to even get it up and passed out on her living room couch.  

It’s true what her therapist said.  Both her parent’s untimely deaths left a void deep inside her.  She had used drugs, alcohol, and dangerous sexual behavior and stranger encounters as a way to escape this Beautiful Fucking Type of Pain.  

Eminem was her vibe; his voice like a prophet, his words sacred to her soul search for meaning in this so-called forsaken life of hers.  

She missed them both and needed an escape from her present state of being.  

“She who releases her inner goddess shall be set free indeed.”  Toni’s voice still resonating through her body; every fiber tingling as if her pianists hands were touching, caressing her weary skin all over, every inch, every curve.  

You are my sex muse,” Claire would scream out loud.  Even in a public venue she would have an orgasmic experience just feeling her lover’s touch across her upper leg as they would sit together for a broadway show or a cafe latte at their fav Starbucks on Peace Street.  

She desired her now more than ever, on the edge of the cliff, as the raging sea reflected her own turmoil and the mindfuck her present situation got her in. 

Her mother used to tell her as a child, “don’t be tempted by the things of this world for they are fleeting and will vanish like a vapor in the wind.”  She was definitely the black sheep of the family.  She just felt the inner urge to push the envelope of fate and faith in oneself; not some one night stand in the back of the Bang Bus her on again off again pimp boyfriend used for his mobile porn studio.  She was just trying to make it in between extra work and her Central Casting gigs to pay the damn rent and to feed her addiction to pot and sushi bars with her daisy chain sweethearts. 

It’s not like she chose this fucking life as if she won the lottery of the Universe and was given the keys to the kingdom.  Her magical castle included Princess Antoinette and not Prince Charming.  She wanted nothing more than to share her secret riches deep within with that one lady in waiting.  Nothing will keep her from getting what she desired; not religion, not her friends, not the demons surrounding her every move. 

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