After listening intently to Tool's Third eye, I decided to use the imagery that one would see in Alex Grey's works. The CoSM (Church of Sacred Mirrors) houses the work that inspired the surreal aspect of this story. Alex Grey has made artwork for Tool on the Album Lateralus and those paintings reflect the imagery used in Third Eye. I hope you enjoy yourself with the erotica as well with the surrealism of opening the third eye through sex.
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He stood on the doorway, blocking any way out. He spoke softly, so softly, that I thought it might have been the wind. His hands, rough from a days work, held a glass of wine with such finesse. His stare was fixed on me, and it send chills down my spine. I sat on the bed-- his bed-- wondering when this waiting game would end. It's not as if being with him was a bad thing, but that it had to end sooner or later. The dread that followed every encounter frustrated me.
His delicate features beguiled the roughness of his body. The scars I've seen were evident of hard labor. His demeanor betrayed all the scarring, all the hardness that one was entitled after strenuous work. He was a walking contradiction.
He walked towards me, glass in hand, with intention to join the bedside. I let him do as he wanted, noting that there was no hesitation in his steps. His hand made a detour on the armoire and set the down the glass. His buttoned shirt came off at the top, revealing what seemed to be a proud chest. He sat down beside me and took my hand on his. I knew what he wanted, almost entirely, before he said a word. I knew the first time I saw him.
When he walked beside me and sat down on the stool, I sensed the lust. That flame that ignited his loins made itself known to me. Clinking his drink to get my attention, his first words were: "I think you're hot."
That might have been the alcohol talking, but seeing as how he'd come to me first, with that tone that let me know just how serious he was, I gave it little doubt. I glanced around my surroundings, just making sure who was in my premises. Two men talking two stool to my left. Three guys dancing behind me. A man spoiling for attention, and a hell of a lot more interesting than me. My average features portrayed no specialness. No sexual mojo that would drive the men wild. I could almost escape notice, and often times did. This beautiful Adonis took notice of average me.