Dancing in the rain

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Dancing in the rain

by Donovn West,
Sex Love Dreams


                                               A thousand wishes for Love and Romance...

                                              A million raindrops between these you dance.

                                                 Amid thunders roar and lightnings flash
                                                    Each one a wish the storm might last.

                                                  The clouds watch you, grow even more…
                                                    Even more Lovely than moments before.

                                                     As the sun patiently, awaits his chance... 
                                            To peek out behind rainbows, to watch you dance.



                                           “She told me once she found the thunder arousing.”

                                  A complicated personality. Red lips; impetuous smile. Green eyes;
                                  black glasses. Her visions blurry; eyesight just short of 20/20.

                                  When we met, she was single. Born sicilian, raised catholic, She
                                  attends mass every Sunday.

                                  I can recall only one time she was ever late. Throwing her clothes
                                  on in a hurry, before rushing out of my place; slamming the door
                                  behind her.

                                  “Ah, forgive her father for she has sinned. She's barenaked
                                  beneath that black dress.”

                                  Red and white lace lies abandoned near the bed posts; she's
                                  always leaving her things. She does this to let me know she's
                                  coming back.


                                  She started seeing someone; he’s much older. Grey stubble; dark
                                  toupee, she hasn't come around in awhile.

                                  Until one night, around 8:30 pm, there's a knock at my door, and
                                  there she is. Standing in the doorway, soaking wet, it's raining

                                  She doesn't speak. Instead, she grabs my hand, pulling me out and
                                  towards the elevator. One.. two.. three.. four.. five steps, we're
                                  inside now, the doors close.

                                  She's leaning against me shivering from both rain and excitement.
                                  To my left, illuminated circles are slowly descending. We've
                                  almost reached the lobby.


                                  The doors open; she's running now. Racing back out into the rain,
                                  pulling me along behind her. I do my best to keep up. What can I
                                  say, her enthusiasm is contagious.

                                  The thunder applauds as we dance in the rain. Lightning flashes,
                                  as if, taking an eternal photograph for both God and all his angels.
                                  I'm drinking in her wet lips; long black hair hides my vision of her
                                  lovely face.


                                  And that, was the last time I saw her; she was married soon after.

                                  I politely found an excuse to avoid the wedding although I am
                                  happy for her. Life in the slow lane is much easier on the body;
                                  being pampered and spoiled, now part of a life I couldn't give her.

                                  When I delete her number it's dark outside, and it feels like I'm
                                  treading water in the sea melancholy.

                                  I close my eyes, and drift away on the memory of a time we
                                  proved it was possible, to share a moment of sunshine even while
                                  in the midst of a storm.

                                  For her it's a happy ending; but for me… I'll miss her.


Donovan West is less a person, than he is an archetype. He is the embodiment of a "Gentleman Wolf." This is to say he has all the wit, charm and sophistication of a gentleman; as well as the unapologetic primal drive for sex; as the Wolf.   

He is driven by a fascination for, what he calls, " HIGH HEEL CULTURE." A high class society of sugarbabies, fashionistas, and femme fatales. They are the mirror image of the Mr. West archetype but as embodied by the feminine.

Age is but a number; power and social standing are prime motivations. Seduction, a weapon; love, fleeting.They carry no qualms about loving and leaving Mr. West.

His stories explore his life, his adventures, and the pain and pleasure of lessons learned