The City of Lost Souls

Arcanum Corvus is an author. He has a book on the New York Times Bestseller list called, Amissus animarum. There's a catch, nobody know's what he looks like. Matter of fact, nobody knows who he is; well there are a few. Arcanum has a past, and he cautiously exposes it through his characters. There's more to Arcanum than meets the eye. So who is the mysterious author, nobody truly knows.


7. Chapter Seven

     I’d crept upstairs so I could shower, and get dressed for the day. I shut the door partially, and stripped myself of my clothing. I decided to peek in on her once, before stepping in the shower. She was sleeping, but her face showed discomfort. I walked in with my towel around my waist. I leaned over holding onto the head board, and kissed her temple. I watched for a moment as she trembled slightly. I carefully stood back up, and let her rest; while I was showering my thoughts decided to gallivant around my skull. I could only describe it as being the reverberating sound, of a thousand horses running. 
     I could picture her warm, soft body in front of me. I could see the trails of water, as they ran over her beautiful curves. Her soft, round breasts in my hands. Her allowing me to embrace her beauty. Her back pressed against my chest. She could feel me press against her, eager for her. The want I had for her. The need I had for her. I wanted to drink her in. I would move her hair, lean down pressing soft kisses along her neck. I would find her sensitive spot, and gently bite. A soft raspy moan would escape her lips.
     “Touch me.” 
     I could hear her whisper. I would gently caress her soft skin, my hand trailing gently over her smooth stomach. Then I would glide my fingers across, and gently tease her hip, giving light squeezes. Her body tensing against mine, with anticipation. 
     A soft begging from her beautiful lips. My hand would slide over her thigh, gently caressing her sweetness. She moan, pushing her hips forward, “patientia mea.” 
     I would find her peculiarem locum, and gently expose it. Her breathing would hitch, and I would tighten my grip on her breast. Slowly I would play with her, gently pulling on her rosebud. Moving it delicately between my fingers. Slowly my hand that was in between her thighs, would make small delicate circles. Every once in a while gently my finger would lightly graze her swollen clitoris. Soft gasps would continue to fill the shower, with the neighboring moans that were growing in response to each touch. I finally slide my hands down, and sliding two fingers into her. She trembles, and her head falls back. I move with precision, as she begs for me to move faster. I won’t do it. I remove my fingers, and drag them back up to her clitoris, and move in a circular motion, a little faster. One hand is splayed against my shower wall, balancing her. The other is on me. Stroking with a firm rhythm, the tremble runs down my spine. Her moans, and feeling how wet she is for me. 
    I try to hold back, “Please I need to come. I want you to feel me come for you.”
     She’s takes her hand from the wall, desperately trying to push my hand back down to slide my fingers in her once again. I oblige, and slide two fingers in again, moving them in, and out with a rhythm, as my thumb gently rubs her clitoris. She’s tightening up on my fingers. Her breathing becoming heavier, faster. She’s now stroking me faster, and greedier. Then her head falls back against my chest, and she moans. I feel her as she explodes, and thats when I find my release. 
     I opened my eyes, and I’m was still firmly holding onto myself. A few more gently strokes, and I’m breathing heavier then I ever have before. The girl of my fantasy, is lying in my bed. Nursing a hangover, and I’m in my fucking bathroom masturbating to her. I felt like such a wanker. I was so angry with myself. It was selfish, and neither of us deserved it. She didn’t deserved to be used in that way, nor did I deserve the pleasure. So I focused on the task at hand and washed up. Once my shower was over, I pulled a towel from the rack, and wrapped it around my waist. I decided after my escapade I needed to clean the shower. Abby would need one, and I just wouldn’t feel right. So I got to work cleaning it for her. Once everything was clean, and put away I dressed quietly in the bedroom.
     I went for a a comfortable casual look. Dark blue jeans, a black turtle neck sweater, and a pair of leather shoes. I put a little mouuse in my hands, and ran my fingers through my hair. I would glance over my shoulder as she slept. She was pure beauty. So how had I become so lucky? Right now I wasn’t exactly sure where we stood. I just masturbated thinking of her. It was an amazing fantasy, but I felt like I’d used her. Now with everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours, everything had been one hell of a whirl wind. A soft moan of pain came from the bed. I walked over, and gently felt her forehead. 
     “Mmm Arcanum?” 
     I smiled, “Yes love. What’s wrong?” 
     She whimpered, “I don’t feel good.” 
     I pulled back the covers, and scooped her up in my arms. I carried her into the bathroom, and set her down. I lifted the cover, then the seat. She hunched over, and started vomiting. I held her hair, and rubbed her back. She braced herself holding onto the edge of the sink, and the wall.          
     “Oh god. It hurts.” She was sweating, tears were streaming down her cheeks. 
     I looked at my clock on the wall. She’d been throwing up for close to twenty minutes. Finally she stood up. I closed the toilet flushing it. She was cold, and clammy. She rinsed out her mouth, and sat down on the toilet. I reached up, and grabbed a wash cloth. 
     “Where am I?” she asked. 
     I turned on the cold water, running the wash cloth underneath, 
    “You’re in my upstairs bathroom Noodle.” I shut the water off once the cloth was damp. I quickly rung it out, and wiped her face. 
     “Why are you taking care of me?” 
     I smiled squatting in front of her, “Because you’re my best friend, and you’re quite ill. Come love.” I picked her up, and carried her back to my room.


      I grabbed a t-shirt, and a pair of bicycle shorts and tossed them on the bed.
     “Change into these.”
      She moaned, “I can’t even stand up.” 
     I sighed, “I will help you, only if you give me permission. I’m not going to undress you against your will.” 
     She waved her hand at me, “You’ve seen me in less.” 
     I cleared my throat, “My dear you’ve been drinking. Now once again, may I help you? Simple yes or no.” 
     She whimpered, “Shh please. Yes help me.” 
      I walked over, slowing lifting her shirt above her head. I reached behind her back undoing the clasps to her bra. Carefully I slid each strap off, and dropped it into the pile of her clothing. I never looked at her naked chest once. I carefully slid my shirt over her head, and helped guide her arms through the sleeves. The tattoo of my name was there on her back, by her shoulder blade. I smiled because I had Abby on my back as well, but on the opposite shoulder. We always had one another’s back. We did our tattoo's when she stayed with me over the summer in Boston. We’d gone to Harvard Sq. We were strolling through, The Garage, which was a medium sized building, with several different shops. One of them was a small tattoo shop. She was so nervous,  but I wasn’t.
      “You don’t have to do this.” I smiled at her. 
       “No I want to, and I need to.” She looked at me, and offered a nervous smile.
      I held her hand while they did it. She smiled so proudly once it was done. She laid back on the bed, her arm draped over her face. 
     “Abby love, I’m going to change your pants now.” 
A moan implied that she’d had heard me. I carefully un-buttoned her jeans, and slid them down.    
      “Abby please I can’t do your panties. I’d feel very awkward. Change out of them, and put the shorts on. 
      Begrudgingly she did as I had asked. Once she’d changed, she moved back into the middle of the bed. I covered her back up, and kissed her forehead. 
      “Arcanum,” Her voice was horse, and weak. 
     She teared up, “Will you lay with me please.”
      I smiled, and did as she asked. I placed the cool washcloth on her forehead. 
    “Arcanum, I’m so sorry for how I acted.” 
      I stroked her arm, “Shh don’t talk now Abby. Rest love.” She was softly snoring, before I said anything else. 
     Once I was sure she was in a deeper sleep, I slipped off the bed. I tossed her clothes along with mine in the basket, and headed to the washer. I wanted her to feel better once she woke up. I went back to my laptop, as she slept away the afternoon in my room. Every so often I’d hear a whimper from upstairs. I would stop and listen, to see if there were any more. It would be silent. I would return to my work. When the wash had finished, I moved it over to the drier. I had a quiet lunch of tomato basil soup, and an asiago, on whole grain grilled cheese. My phone buzzed, and a message from Cassiel awaited me.
     ‘I know you were brassed off earlier. Mate I’m sorry. Jesus you’re so easy to rile up. I know I made a major cock up. I’ve spoken to Emily. She’s bringing all the ingredients to make home made Chicken Gordon Bleau. She also has fresh pumpkin bread for us. So give me a ring when you get a chance.‘ 
     I sighed, and replied, 
     ‘Damn right I was brassed off. How daft do you have to be Cass? Any ways, Abby is sleeping off a bad night of pissing. She’s vomited up everything she drank, plus what she ate last night. I’m drying her laundry now. If you get here before she wakes, please be respectful. There’s no need for you to be an outright bastard to the poor thing. I will see you at 5:30. NO WINE!!! 
     I hit send. Not even a minute later my phone lit up. 
      ‘Arc I will be there around 4? Let me know please asap. Love you :)‘
     I smiled seeing Emily’s name, and wrote back. 
     ‘Sounds good. Just quiet, Abby’s resting upstairs. Love you too‘ 

      The buzzer on the drier went off. I pulled out the clothes folding them. I left the basket of folded laundry just outside my bedroom door. I listened quietly. She was snoring again. I smiled, and went to the bathroom. The toilet needed to be cleaned now. I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of what happened. If it were me, Abby would have done the same thing. It was a big deal. Abby hadn’t drunk in almost five years. I was the cause of her drinking. That pained me the most. Once I’d cleaned the toilet, I washed my hands and brought the trash outside. I looked around, and listened to the quiet street out front. For a sunday afternoon in Boston, I would have thought it to be busier. Maybe they secretly had some intuition to take a different path. They knew my friend was nursing a hang over and needed the quiet. I smiled and walked back inside. 

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