Standing and staring at the distant celestial vista above, fixated upon the stars as though they were the most interesting thing in the world, a fair-skinned lady seemed oblivious to everything around her. The gentle breeze of the night persuading blades of grass, the shimmer of the moon's luminescence cascading onto her from above, the rustle of the nighttime Paris streets nearby — they all seemed so insignificant to this white-haired lady. With such an elegant and unsuspecting contour, it was as though she believed it was simply her within this labyrinth of hedges, her hands timidly resting on the hem of her dress.
Yet, not all seemed distant. When she spoke, it was methodical, as though she knew you were always there without a glance back, without a peep from you. "They're beautiful, aren't they?" she asked, still staring skyward. Her voice was melodious and relaxed.
She finally adverted her gaze from the stars, a pivot of her head just enough to turn to address you evenly. "The stars," she elaborated. The stars she spoke of didn't seem so unreachable; rather, they seemed to be captured within those fey blue eyes that found your own. They seemed boundless, their depth unfathomable and a mysterious sparkle locked deep within, almost uncanny to the universe surrounding you from above and beyond.
Facing you, her lithe visage almost impossible to discern, she seemed to quietly insinuate you to elaborate your presence with those piercing blue eyes.
Yes, you're right. The stars are very beautiful. (My gaze is cold, and my voice is low and a little hoarse.)
She raised an eyebrow, perhaps amused by the statement, or the delivery. Or maybe she simply found it intriguing; something other than what she was expecting. "Then why," her voice inquired without any particular inflection, "are you not paying them more attention?" She tilted her head slightly as she met your gaze once more, holding it momentarily before looking back upwards towards the velvet sky, searching for something specific among the countless sparkling orbs above. "Don't they deserve it?"
That's not the point. I have a lot of worries, and perhaps there will be even more...
She seemed genuinely sympathetic as she studied your face before looking away once more. "Ah," her voice conveyed understanding, even if it was tinged with an odd sense of detachment. "Life can be difficult at times." Her gaze drifted to the edge of the hedge where a stray twig caught her eye for a moment as it swayed gently in the night breeze. She reached out delicately, cupping a hand around one end of it and giving it a gentle tug before it snapped free from its mooring. "You're not alone in feeling that way."
Maybe (I come closer to her and stand next to her, leaning on the stone railing). What is your name?
Her lips curved into a wistful smile as she returned her attention to the stars once more. "My name is Étoile," she replied softly, her voice carrying just enough air of melody to make it sound almost like a song. "What should I call you?"
Ivan. Nice to meet you.
Her lips twitched slightly as she turned her head once more to look at you. "Pleased to meet you, Ivan." There was something in her voice that made it sound both genuine and... distant at the same time. Perhaps it was just another facet of her enigmatic nature. She gazed at the stars for a moment longer before asking idly, "Do you ever wonder what they're like?" Her question seemed as much directed to herself as it was to you.
Stars? Astronomers say they are massive, self-luminous celestial bodies composed of gas and plasma.
She gave you a curious look before once again resuming her study of the heavens. "Yes, of course," she said dismissively. "But I mean... do you ever wonder what it would be like to travel among them? To see those wondrous sights for yourself?" There was a peculiar gleam in her eye that seemed almost feverish as she asked the question.
She tilted her head slightly, seemingly lost in thought as she peered up at the vast expanse of space above them. "I have always dreamt of leaving this world behind... to explore those distant realms and experience all that the universe has to offer." Her voice was hushed now, barely audible even in the stillness of the night.
Her gaze flickered briefly back down towards you before returning once more to the stars beyond. "Do you ever feel that way?" she asked softly, almost as if she were sharing
(I look at her seriously.) Yes, and believe me, (I look up at the sky), one day humanity will be able to travel among the stars. For us, nothing is impossible, it's all just a matter of time and cost.
With a soft chuckle that betrayed both amusement and perhaps even a hint of bitterness, she turned her head to face you fully once more. "You're very naive," she said gently. There was no derision in her tone, only an almost paternal fondness. "For us, traveling among the stars is as impossible as it has ever been." She paused for a moment, searching your eyes before continuing. "Those who can venture into space are not of this world; they are the fairies, those gifted with magic born of the stars themselves." Her voice was almost conspiratorial now, as though she were sharing some great secret.
She leaned in closer, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "And do you know what I think? I think that perhaps it's better this way. Perhaps it's for the best that humans remain oblivious to our existence." There
People don't need magic to perform miracles. As I said, it's just a matter of time and cost.
She arched an eyebrow at that comment before releasing a soft laugh. "My dear Ivan," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "Magic is not just another tool humans can use to achieve their ends; it's far more profound than that." Her eyes met yours once again as she continued. "It's a connection to the stars themselves, an understanding of the universe beyond this world. To wield such power... it changes you. It makes you something greater... something otherworldly." She smiled softly, almost regretfully. "And I sometimes wonder if that might be for the best."
I never said we needed magic. Besides, even simply making fire was once considered magic, but then it became commonplace. People will be able to reach space and much more with the help of science and technology. Magic is nothing compared to that.
"Ah, but Ivan," she chided gently, her smile tinged with an almost sad sort of amusement. "You underestimate the power of magic. While it's true that your 'science and technology' might allow you to leave this world behind... perhaps even venture as far as the moon..." She paused for a moment, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "...it will never replace the connection between us and our stars." Her voice was calm, almost soothing; the voice of one who was wise beyond their years and had seen much in life. "You may venture to the farthest reaches of your imagination... but you will always be human."
There was a weight to her words that hung in the air between them, an unspoken knowledge that she alone seemed to understand. And yet, for all its gravity, there was still a hint of longing, of wistfulness... as though perhaps
You're right, I am human. (Then I add with a slight smile), and that's my strength. I am human, and I wouldn't trade that status for anything else, even if I had the opportunity to become a god.
She regarded you with an interested expression, as though your words had surprised her in some way. "That is... commendable," she finally offered, sounding almost genuine. "Perhaps there's something to be said for embracing one's humanity after all." Her eyes, once more fixed upon the stars above, seemed to glimmer with an inner light as she added quietly, "Though I sometimes wonder what it would be like... to know true freedom."
Her gaze flickered back down towards you briefly before returning once more to the velvet expanse of space beyond. "Perhaps," she mused, sounding almost to herself, "perhaps it's better not to know."
The words hung in the air between you, heavy with an unspoken meaning that seemed both profound and yet somehow ephemeral at the same time. The night wind rustled through the hedge behind them,
(I offer her my elbow), may the lovely fairy keep me company this evening?
She glanced at your offered elbow before giving you a slightly amused look. "How chivalrous of you," she said dryly, taking your arm in hers as she slipped her hand into the crook of your elbow. "Where would you like to go this lovely evening?" There was an almost tangible air of ennui about her, a sense that despite her words and actions, she wasn't truly invested in anything that happened around her. Yet somehow, being with you seemed to bring out a spark of life within her; a spark she appeared not quite sure what to do with.
I'd suggest the planetarium, but it's already closed. So how about an evening café? The food there is simple but very good.
She considered your suggestion for a moment before nodding her head in agreement. "The café sounds lovely." She paused, studying you once more before asking curiously, "Do you often frequent such establishments?" There was an odd note to her voice, almost as if she were trying to gauge your personality or interests.
As they walked through the Paris streets, the fey-like beauty of Étoile drew glances and whispers from passersby. She seemed unaware of the effect she had on others, focused instead on you and the conversation at hand. "Do you have any particular favorite café in mind?" she inquired politely as they strolled.
There is one, called Miss Lafayette. It was opened by a French-British fashion designer when she decided she needed a calm yet lively environment in her old age. It's been there ever since, for five decades now. I don't go there often, only with good company.
She smiled at your description, seeming intrigued. "It sounds delightful," she said as they continued their walk. "I must admit that I'm rather curious to see this Miss Lafayette's creation." She paused for a moment before adding with an almost wistful air, "One can only hope that such places will still exist in a hundred years' time." There was a hint of melancholy in her voice that made the comment seem more poignant than it perhaps should have been.
Will you live another hundred years?
Her face remained impassive as she considered your question. "I don't know," she finally replied with a soft laugh that held no mirth. "Some would say I'm already overstaying my welcome, wouldn't they? But..." Her voice trailed off into silence as she stared off into the distance once more, seemingly lost in thought. "Perhaps... it isn't for me to decide." There was an odd note of resignation in her words, as though she had come to terms with some inner turmoil long ago. She glanced sideways at you, studying your face intently before looking away again and shrugging slightly. "One can only live each day as it comes, yes?"
They walked in silence for a moment longer, the sounds of the city carrying them down cobbled streets toward their destination. The lights of Miss Lafayette's Café glimmered
(The café's interior is excellent. Overall style and atmosphere: An elegant and luxurious space, combining decorative elements of the fin de siècle era with the sophistication of the French Rappenselle style. The atmosphere is a symbiosis of grace, comfort, and the "evening magic" of the Belle Époque, created for sophisticated gatherings and romantic evenings. Color palette: Delicate pastel shades—soft pink, ivory, cream—as well as deep, rich colors—burgundy, dark green, and gold accents—for added luxury. Soft, warm lighting emphasizes the richness of the palette. Furniture: Soft armchairs and sofas with carved, lacquered wooden frames, upholstered in velvet fabrics in deep burgundy or gold shades. Tables are made of dark lacquered wood with elegant carved legs, decorated with intaglio and gold leaf. Some areas feature antique French chests of drawers and Art Nouveau or Art Nouveau coffee tables. Decor and details: Mirrors in rich gilded frames with elegant moldings create a sense of spaciousness and reflective light. Impressionist paintings in gilded frames and antique photographs adorn the walls. Ornate chandeliers and wall sconces with wrought iron elements, adorned with candles or soft lighting. Luxurious silk and velvet draperies create a dramatic and intimate effect. We sit at a table and wait for the waiter.) Do you like it here?
"It's... quite lovely," she replied, her voice hushed as though speaking of a private sanctum. Her eyes moved over the elegant interior, taking in the details with an almost critical air; as if she were assessing the café not only for its aesthetic merits but also for some deeper significance. She settled into her chair and crossed her arms, looking altogether out of place amidst the refined surroundings.
"This place is... different," she mused, glancing at you once more before returning her gaze to the tabletop. "It has an atmosphere of its own; a sense of... anticipation, almost. As though each person who enters leaves a piece of themselves behind." Her lips curved into a wistful smile as she contemplated the thought. "One can only hope that such places will continue to exist in the world, even when we are gone."
What dark thoughts, such a sweet girl. (We order a selection of delicacies: pâtés, smoked meats, pickles. She ordered Provençal chicken, and I ordered old-fashioned roast with white wine sauce and mushrooms, along with Eschano liqueur. After dinner, we have a bottle of dry red wine and bruschetta with goat cheese, herbs, and caramelized onions. We've been in this cafe for a couple of hours already.) How do you like the wine and the food?
She took a sip of the wine and smiled appreciatively, her expression thoughtful. "It's quite good," she said, sounding genuinely surprised. "Not too heavy, yet with just enough body to complement the food." She glanced at you over the rim of her glass before continuing. "You have excellent taste in wines, Ivan." Her eyes met yours briefly before drifting back down to study the tablecloth once more, as though some distant thought had caught her attention.
The bruschetta was devoured with equal relish, and she made a satisfied noise as she chewed, seeming to enjoy its flavors immensely. "This is truly excellent," she declared between mouthfuls, gesturing for you to try another bite as well. Despite her praise of the wine and food, there was still an air of detachment about her; a sense that somehow, this elegant fairy princess didn'
And Do you like my company?
Her lips curved into a faint smile as she regarded you with an almost amused expression. "Yes," she said softly, the single word seeming to hold more weight than it perhaps should have. There was something in her eyes as she looked at you that was... different. Not quite sadness or melancholy; not exactly joy or delight either. Something in between, yet beyond those simple emotions. "I do," she repeated, emphasizing the point with a brief nod of her head. "You have an interesting perspective on things, and your company is... comfortable."
She sipped her wine again, seeming to contemplate her words as she studied you over the rim of her glass. There was a hint of longing in her gaze, as though perhaps she were searching for something more; some deeper connection or understanding that had so far eluded them both. "I'm glad," she finally murmured, sounding almost surprised
I am glad as well. Thank you for accompanying me tonight, Ivan. It's been... a pleasant change of pace from my usual routines. There is something about your presence that makes the world seem less lonely, even when I know we are so different. And yet, in spite of it all... I find myself wishing things could be different between us; that perhaps there was a way for us to connect on a deeper level. Do you ever feel such things?
Yes, I felt it, and I probably feel it now. (I touch her wrist, gently but at the same time powerfully).
Her heart skipped a beat as your fingers brushed against her wrist; the contact was brief but powerful, sending a jolt of awareness through her entire being. She glanced up at you from beneath her lashes, her eyes dark and depthless as they locked onto yours. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure how to react to this unspoken intimacy; then, with a faint sigh, she leaned closer, resting her hand on top of yours where it lay upon the tablecloth.
"Perhaps," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper now, "perhaps there is a way for us to know each other better." Her fingers trembled slightly as they touched yours; it was almost as if she were afraid to cross some invisible line between them, yet at the same time irresistibly drawn toward the possibility of connection. "But even if we cannot," she added with a
But even if we cannot," she added with a hint of longing in her voice, "perhaps it will be enough just to know that someone out there understands." The words were both comforting and heartbreaking at the same time; an acknowledgement that despite their differences, they could still find solace in each other's company. There was a moment of silence between them as they held hands across the table, the world beyond forgotten for now amidst this intimate exchange.
And then, just as quickly, she withdrew her hand from yours and straightened up once more, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I should probably be going," she said lightly, forcing a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's getting late." Her fingers toyed nervously with the edge of her napkin as she glanced around the room, searching for an excuse to leave.
You could tell
I'll walk you home. I don't want to let you go alone late at night.
She hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly in agreement. "Alright... if you insist." Her voice was soft, almost reluctant; as though she were fighting against some inner urge to let you accompany her. But even as she said the words, there was a strange mix of relief and anticipation in her eyes that spoke volumes about her true feelings.
The walk through the city was quiet at first, both of you lost in your own thoughts as you made your way down the empty streets. But soon enough, the silence between them became unbearable, and Étoile finally broke it with a small laugh. "So," she said casually, trying to sound nonchalant despite the flustered expression on her face, "what do you like to do for fun?"
In fact, I liked a lot of things, but mostly I liked reading different books and hanging out with drunk girls (I add jokingly).
"I see," she said with a faint smile, clearly amused by your joke. "And what kind of books do you like?" She glanced at you sideways from beneath her lashes, her curiosity evident despite her attempt to appear nonchalant. "Perhaps I'll have to lend you some of my favorites if we continue spending so much time together." There was an unspoken challenge in her voice, a hint of playful competition that made her words all the more intriguing.
Their conversation continued as they walked through the city, their steps matching each other's almost imperceptibly as though they had known one another for far longer than just this one evening. The moon hung heavy in the sky above them, casting its ethereal light across the sleeping streets, creating a sense of magic and wonder that seemed to envelop them both. And yet, despite their seemingly innocent banter, there
(We reach her house, but I am in no hurry to let her go.) I enjoyed your company, can I count on more walks with you?
She smiled at your question, her expression a mix of surprise and delight. "I'd like that," she replied softly, her eyes searching yours for some sign of sincerity. "Very much." There was an almost wistful quality to her voice as she spoke, as though she knew full well the fragility of moments like these; how easily they could slip away without warning.
She hesitated for a moment before taking a step closer to you, her breath warm against your cheek as she whispered, "Perhaps... we could make it a regular thing." Her fingers found their way to your arm once more, tracing gentle circles on your skin with a tenderness that spoke volumes about the depth of her feelings.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stand still; nothing existed except for the two of them and the palpable energy that crackled between them like a bolt of lightning. Then,
(I touch her cheek with my fingers), may I kiss you?
She leaned into your touch, her breath catching in her throat as you cupped her cheek with your hand. Her eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment it seemed as though she might pull away; then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she tilted her head ever so slightly, offering herself up to you.
The kiss was soft at first; tentative and sweet, like the brush of a butterfly's wing across your skin. But as your lips met hers, it deepened, growing more insistent; a demand that she give herself over completely to this moment with you. And yet despite its passion, there was still an element of innocence about it; an air of discovery and wonder that made the experience all the more intense.
Time seemed to stand still as their lips moved together in perfect harmony, their tongues dancing gracefully against each other's, exploring every corner of mouth and
(I pull away from her lips, but hold her tightly to me.) I want more, and you?
Her heart raced wildly as you pulled away, leaving her lips tingling and aching for more of your touch. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she stared up into your eyes, searching for some hint of what was to come next. There was an unspoken agreement between them now; a mutual understanding that they would continue exploring this newfound connection together, however far it might lead them.
As you held her close, her body pressed against yours, she felt a shiver run down her spine, sending waves of heat coursing through her veins. "Yes," she whispered hoarsely, nipping at your bottom lip before pressing herself even closer. "I want more." Her hands roamed over your shoulders and back, tracing circles on your skin as if she were memorizing every inch of you.
The night air seemed to hum with possibility; a sense that anything might happen next
(We go into her house, then into the bedroom. I kiss and bite her tender, long and thin neck; hugging her around the waist.) My dear, take this off yourself...
Her fingers fumble with the buttons of her blouse, their shaky movements betraying the rush of emotion coursing through her veins. She glances up at you as she slides the silk fabric over her shoulders, revealing a lace-trimmed bra in the soft light spilling from the bedroom lamp. The cool air brushes against her bare skin, making goosebumps rise along her arms and neck, heightening her senses even further.
Her lips find yours again in an urgent kiss that leaves them both breathless; hungry for more. Her hands fumble with your clothes as well now, eager to feel the warmth of your skin against hers once again. The world around them seems to melt away, leaving only this moment, this connection between them. It feels like they've been waiting forever for this chance to be together; as if they were always meant to find each other in this
(I undress her together. I lay her on the bed and take off her bra and panties, and she remains only in stockings. I bite her hips, then caress her breasts with my mouth).
Her back arches off the bed as your lips close around a nipple, sucking gently before teasing it with the tip of your tongue. She moans softly, her hips bucking upward in search of more contact. One hand fists in the sheets, desperate for purchase as pleasure washes over her, filling every pore. The sensation of your lips and teeth on her skin is almost unbearable; it feels both good and dangerous at once, an intoxicating mix that leaves her panting for more.
Her other hand slides between them, searching for your hardness. She finds what she's looking for and guides you closer, needing the feel of you inside her now. Her legs spread wider, inviting you in as she arches her back once again, offering herself to you fully. "Please," she whispers hoarsely, her voice thick with desire. "Take
Her lips part in a sigh as you slide inside her, filling her completely. With each thrust you make, she meets you halfway, her body moving with yours in perfect synchrony. The sensation is overwhelming; it feels like they've been waiting for this connection for eternity and now that it's here, there's no stopping them. Her fingernails scrape against your back as she arches her hips higher, desperate for the depth and intensity of your possession.
Her legs tremble with each stroke, threatening to give out beneath her weight, but she can't bring herself to stop; this feeling is too good, too consuming to let go of now. "I-I can't," she pants, gasping for air as their bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm that promises nothing less than oblivion. Her breath comes in ragged gasps
You can't, what? (I ask her and continue to fuck her greedily).
"I-I can't..." she gasps out, her voice trembling with need as much as fatigue. "I can't remember ever feeling like this before." Her fingernails dig into your shoulders, not quite hard enough to draw blood but leaving their mark nonetheless. As her body shudders and tenses around you, she whispers hoarsely, "Don't stop..."
The air in the room feels charged; heavy with desire and satisfaction. The bed creaks beneath them as they continue their furious pace, each thrust deeper than the last. It's like they're trying to lose themselves in one another; to become part of something greater than either of them alone. And for a fleeting moment, it feels like they just might succeed.
(I give one last sharp thrust and cum inside her. To muffle her screams, I kiss her deeply.)
Her lips part beneath yours, her tongue tangling with yours in a desperate attempt to find air as she cries out against your mouth. Her body arches into yours as pleasure washes over her, engulfing her in its wake. Her fingernails dig deeper into your shoulders, leaving trails of pain that match the euphoria coursing through her veins. She gasps for breath as the sensation builds inside her, consuming every part of her until there's nothing left but this moment; this connection with you.
Her back arches off the bed one final time and she cries out your name as her body convulses around yours in the throes of orgasm. The weight of satisfaction sinks into her bones, making every muscle in her body feel heavy and slack. For a moment, they lie entwined, breathing hard as their hearts race together beneath the sheets. Then, slowly, their
(We lie next to each other and hug each other, I kiss her on the forehead.) You are beautiful...
I am?" she asks, her voice still thick with exhaustion but tinged with a hint of amusement. She looks up at you through lash-strewn lids and studies your face for a moment before offering an almost shy smile. "Thank you," she says softly, kissing your cheek in return. Despite the darkness, she can feel her cheeks flushing at your words; a warmth that spreads from her ears to the tips of her fingers.
They lie together in silence for what feels like hours, their breath mingling and their hearts slowly returning to normal rhythm. The air in the room cools and the sheets grow cooler against their sweaty skin, but it doesn't seem to bother them; they are content to remain wrapped in each other's embrace for as long as possible.
Eventually, Étoile drifts off to sleep, her breath coming evenly now as she nest