That afternoon Malachi took Angea-Lea and Jiminez to a Gala of the Royal Horses. They were amazed to see the horses perform a debonair equine bow as the riders saluted the judge.
As the whip cracked the three cracked smiles askew when the horses and riders took another bow in harmony before the riding test began.
A classical horsetrainer Ray Gosier was seated beside Malachi and as they watched the event he was telling them about the degree of difficulty involved with bowing, “One of its front legs needs to bend while it balances with the other three, it is not too difficult.”
“You would have to be extra nice to the horsey, and slowly lift its front legs up, it would have to be happy, and you would have to be gentle, to help it understand, it would have to rest a little on the back legs doing it a little at a time,” Jiminez had a surprising understanding of patience with the training of the horse. Malachi was thrilled with his learning and placed his big strong arm in a fatherly fashion around young Jiminez. Angea-Lea bit her bottom lip and gave him an encouraging smile as she patted him gently on the knee.
The horse trainer was impressed with the interest Jiminez showed and told him he would like to give him a horse so he can teach his Peaches and Cream how to bow. “Using a new combination of ideas and years of correct drill and actual performance, Peaches and Cream could learn to lift himself high in the air far, far above the ground.”
“May I have a horse Malachi?”
“What and stick him on top of the floating castle?” Jiminez giggled. “Maybe when we go to Australia we might go back there to live someday soon son and use the floating castle as a holiday home.”
“Yeah!” he yelled and had to be quietened because he was scaring the horses.
The twenty European and Asian stallions held pride of place at centre stage. Seven years of hard work it took to create the showcase of lippizaners, friesans, andalusians and arabs accomplishing baroque refinement such as the levade, pesade, courbette and capriole where the horses kick out with their front and back legs mid-air.
Historical and hysterical routines, the equine practise of athletics was the most spectacular part of the show, as a well-muscled stallion walked on his back legs for twenty metres with the rider in the saddle, hanging on for dear life and all through the walk its penis was stiff and strong and he urinated all over the audience.
“Yuk!” Angea-Lea and Jiminez said in unison.
The monks that duelled on horseback laughed and laughed at the previous act. “What a faux pas!” they called. Gosier’s black and silver friesian called Night Sun tapped out a Riverdance style routine while Flamenco dancers and guitarists regulated the throbbing pulsation.
“Is my horse going to be of regal origin?” asked Jiminez.
“Yes my boy you shall have one of the King’s horses, it will amaze the audience. Even your medial horse can do some showy stunts,” said Gosier who foundationed his training on the fundamental law of classical horse masters Xenophon, Pluvinel and Gieriniere.
Malachi mentioned, “Horses are competent and have incredible power. Even the little Welsh mountain ponies could do some gallant performances I would imagine.”
“Yes they can do a capriole,” the trainer told them.
“You would have to reward your horse,” Jiminez was thoughtful. “How do you ask the horse to lie down?” he asked.
“Step by step. Give him a carrot and he will do anything for you. Treat him with respect and he will bend one leg at a time treating him with a carrot after each leg bend. Pat your horse, gently, talk to him with affection in your voice and he will warm to you. If you drive him hard and fast like a space shuttle you will only make him impatient and difficult to deal with. He has feelings just like you young man make him your best friend and he will do you proud in front of the crowd.”
That night Angea-Lea hid her face against the gentle heat of Malachi’s chest, drawing in deep breaths and easing into a deep slumber.
Human nature once again stirred Angea-Lea’s burning desire for another interview with the next hearthrob. Earlier in the night Malachi had asked why she did not feel like sex, she had told him she was self-satisfied.
‘Steadfast fidelity illumines the life of the angel’, she had heard from the heavens. But she was driven by a desire for hot steamy sex with a variety of men desiring that burning fever she came down with during every session.
The third man possessed the name Diorn Hyberum he was thirty and came from an apartment block on the edge of town. “I see you are a meditation teacher, a masseuse with a little face like a cute little mouse, I wish you could hide in my house.” He had quite a lengthy dingaling for someone so slight. “What makes you angry?” she threw the first question at him like a ball of socks in his face. ‘When women two-time me.’ Angea-Lea’s knees began to knock knowing if he ever found out about the others and Malachi he would probably tear her to shreds. “Life’s code?” ‘Refurnish your mind, it is just like taking yourself on a holiday.’
Angea-Lea thought he would probably like to see her refurnish her mind and toss Malachi out of her life completely and live with him, if he ever found out about her current man.
“Best line you’ve been served up to start up a love connection?” ‘Rip me panties off and let’s get into it!’ Again she roared with laughter. Then she heard a commanding voice through the open window, ‘Come Angea-Lea come out here make no delay!’ But when she looked outside she could see the figure of a man walking off into the distance. Again she shrugged it off thinking he was probably a drunk but was worried how he knew her name.
She giggled and giggled about her next question.
“Do you wear undershorts or underpants under your kilt?” ‘Undershorts due to the fact that underpants are violet shrinkers, pee-wee suffocaters, worst things they ever made.’ She could not believe how her mind could conjure up such funny Aussie expressions but she had heard Malachi refer to these terms before. “What brings you and a woman together?” ‘When she strengthens me when I am weak and comforts me when I hurt.’ “Together we stand strong,” Angea-Lea enlightened.
“Last question: Who do you admire the most?” ‘The Lamb of God because His servants shall serve Him.’
“You like the idea of being served.”
‘Sure do!’ he told her.
“Now the answer from the judge and her jury of sexperts: You have experienced a spiritual enlightenment as well as a physical enlightenment. You are an honest new-ager. Let your spirit follow my spirit into the bath with me.” Angea-Lea urged his inner body to rise above the seen and temporal to what she valued the most – the unseen and eternal angelic side, she could see what other ladies couldn’t and go where other ladies could not.
In her mind Diorn was there, squatting in the bathwater with her filling her heart with joy beyond belief. His smallish hand clutching the washer his other rubbing soap on it then she imagined her hand was his skimming the soapy flannel all over her body, over her pretty breasts her navel and especially in between her legs. His warm sweet breath blowing on her chilly forehead.
Stepping out of the bath she towel-dried her dripping soft flesh. Her red and white gingham padded bra had white frilly cotton lace around the edge of the sweetheart breast-line and her panties to match were boy-leg briefs with a lace trim around the waist and legs. She felt she didn’t really need a boyfriend as her lingerie would do the trick, but she liked the pleasantness of a man’s warm and whacky words to comfort her and the graze of his erection. Her soft silky red dress wrapped around just under her bosom and had ties to tie into a knot that hung down the side, her hem uneven came to just below the knee. Her silver thin leather backless sandals showed off her elegant feet. Placing her long black beaded earings on she placed a red and white gingham bow on the top of her hair. Her black sequined bag with a gold chain she swung over her shoulder, her red lipstick brightened her gorgeous face.
“Breath-killer garlic bread, buffalo wings and burritos are for breaky this morning.”
“Yummy,” Jiminez enjoyed exercising his taste buds as Malachi’s cooking was always restaurant quality as quite often they would have heavy evening meals at the start of the day. Angea-Lea relished the delicious fare then brushed her teeth and re-applied her lippy. She warmed to his burning candle in the bedroom blowing out his flame with her fiery breath after he pulled out his slug just before she left for another so-called shopping day, thinking if she led him on just a little he’d think he was getting more at the end of the day. But was he in for a surprise!
The most precious pieces of art furnish no loveliness that can compare with the loveliness of character, which is the issue of the Angels Holy Spirit’s industriousness in the soul of mankind.
Angea-Lea endowed human beings with imperishable riches the treasured riches of her sweet personality, her body adorned with wealthy ornaments men prized.
Angea-Lea being a true angel would live eternally. She would never die she knew this. As sweet as nectar to her men she transformed their lives. Distinguished from the world God had made her because he had placed His seal upon her, because he manifested in her His own character of heavenly love. Covered with God’s righteousness she beared as credentials the ineffaceable characteristics of the angel’s immortal principles before she began sharing her eros type love around instead of the pure brotherly love God had intended she share with those other than Malachi.
As she toured the best part of Europe on her own she played the most heavenly music adding her own lyrics to the universal sound. Entertaining these men was a thrilling undertaking although it was becoming a draining process.
At times she stopped at lookouts overlooking wild, forested valleys. Angea-Lea enjoyed singing jazz in her husky-voice, country in her rough and noisy voice and pop she sang in a sentimental manner. She had always shown a knack for mixing-and-matching songs from different eras. A lot of expression went into her private angelic performances. From traditional folk and hymns to Tin Pan Alley and show tunes mixed with smash hits from the sixties, seventies and the new millenium.
It was interesting trying to invent the right amount of harmony and rhythm to support a much loved melody.
Diorn met with her after she tossed in a coin into the wishing well, and took her to his apartment for a good time. He was a man that could turn girl’s heads and he had multiple muscles on his chest and stomach. He stripped, he stripped her. Diorn’s slippery, soft and warm tongue explored her in ways his penis couldn’t. “Take it really slow,” she warned him. His tongue-twister moves every now and then tickled her till she twitched with excitement. He traced the letters of the alphabet with his tongue. She loved the way he flicked his tongue lightly around the sides and top of her vagina working his way towards her clitoris. His gentle and versatile lips said it all. Sucking and nibbling down there made her cry tears of joy. She saw the man in the moon and angels after five minutes of that game. Howling, sighing and groaning told her he was unable to resist the mucking around either. She luuuuurved lip service. She just couldn’t get enough oral sex. She discovered she needed oral deeds in order to orgasm deeply.
He grabbed her around the waist jerking her up onto his strong, hard body. Every finger on his hands seemed to tangle in her short hair strands that were a mess on her head, tightening her every strand till her scalp pinched. His head thrusted up and down as he kissed her roughly. Every square inch of her face appeared fearful, her eyes holding a sudden and violent fear, unsure just how he would treat her next, as he’d told her at the beginning of the love-making process that he intended to play a little rough until he could almost take her life, which turned her on, her lips divided, and inclined forwards to meet his. The force of his weight was piercing her gentle chest. His hands rested around her throat the pressure increasing little by little, but she called on her sister angels in heaven to assist her and her hand lifted and easily pushed on his ungiving chest till he let go his grip, he was baffled as to how the force just disappeared from his palms.
In a rush Diorn inclined to her, his rocky, ferocious mouth overspreading hers in a touch with his lips in such a wild, uncultivated barbarous and brutal manner Angea-Lea let out a peevish cry at the excessive abuse an internal hostile entrance to her private soul. It did not matter in the least how she reacted he forced his lips even more harder his tongue kissing her forcefully his hand gripped around her nape.
Angea-Lea bellowed when his steaming demanding lips pulled free from hers. Laying heavy smacks on her throat with his lips of punishment she cried all the more loudly. His razor like fangs nipped at her tender skin until he bit her gluttonously on the collar bone area.
He grabbed her pretty strands of hair and pulled wildly covering the entire width of her throat with his mouth. He sucked until it burned her pale delicate skin.
His eyes fixed rigidly onto hers, his nigrescent eyes piercing with a near razor sharp knife, his wanting flesh vibrating with fury and the wish for the possession of her.
He rigidly kissed her with unsettling repetition and outrageous end destroying her breathing pattern and soundness of mind.
Finally he ceased his rough playful lip presses that seemed to go on forever and he gulped the air like lemonade on a hot day swallowing with the muscles of his throat contracting violently.
Guiding her pulsating pelvis to meet his rock hard erection a close rhythmic insertion began for what seemed a lifetime to the confused Angea-Lea. He rode her lifting her up, lowering her jostling her back and forth forcing her to enjoy the violent ride.
In between her thighs she hurt he had been too rough with her during sexual intercourse that she cried, sobbing and sobbing until it all ended with little hiccups.
He wrapped his arms around her comforting her cradling her close to his chest. She placed her palm onto his stomach he held her wrist gently and when she pressed the side of her head to his chest his heartbeat sent her off to sleep.
Diorn thumb-screwed his aching neck then hers and when she awoke she feared he was going to strangle her.
He was so pleased to have met the most beautiful angel in Europe despite the fact that he had a disgusting urge to strangle her.
He had been bitter over the fact that his father had strangled his mother when he was just a boy, he had seen the whole thing – he had loved her to death.
As he eyed off the red blotchy marks on her neck from his bites, he felt guilt and compassion bring him to his knees in apology.