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Aphrodite Encumbered-Book I-Celestial Sparks

Aphrodite Encumbered-Book I-Celestial Sparks

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Aphrodite Encumbered-Book I-Celestial Sparks

Länge:
225 Seiten
3 Stunden
Herausgeber:
Freigegeben:
Jun 29, 2013
ISBN:
9781301400485
Format:
Buch

Beschreibung

Zen's world of creating buildings of excellence has vanished with his last effort of designing an outstanding extension to a doctor's residence nestling in between an outcrop of natural boulders, much lauded by the director at an international conference for contemporary architecture in coloured stainless steel. The writing is on the wall,while he longs to express his creative art in his profession, he battles against windmills of ignorance at City Hall and with strong-armed clients. For some time he plans the escape of a professional-world he seems to be ignored in, besides the clutches of a changing maelstrom of a new South Africa, whose violent and disintegrating human environment he cannot face any longer. Researching a travel chat program, he meets Hana, who has an outgoing personality and an impulsive joie du vivre. They fall in love, in spite of their physical encumbrances, less noticeable on their webcams, and experience freedom of heir unbridled personal expressions, both mentally and physically. It is a feast of body and soul for the budding soulmates. Is it coincidence or fate that as he prepared to pack for leaving to a country, he and his high-strung souse had agreed upon, it's also Hana's home? During the time of their imminent leave, waiting for selling their property, Zen's emotional life turns into a torch of passion with Hana, as they role-play their sexual fantasies.

Herausgeber:
Freigegeben:
Jun 29, 2013
ISBN:
9781301400485
Format:
Buch

Über den Autor

Z.J. Galos was born in eastern Austria. Educated in Vienna in art and architecture, he sailed for the Cape of Africa, experiencing the vastness and variety of the Southern African continent. Recently he enjoys travelling through Greece visiting its great cultural inheritance. In print also: www.StrategicBookClub.com; www.trafford.com


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Aphrodite Encumbered-Book I-Celestial Sparks - ZJ Galos

APHRODITE

ENCUMBERED

BOOK I

CELESTIAL SPARKS

BY

ZJ GALOS

Aphrodite Encumbered

Book I

Celestial Sparks

ZJ Galos

SmashwordEdition

Copyright ZJ Galos

ISBN:

Smashword Edition, License Notes:

Thank you for downloading the first book in a series of five sequels. If you enjoyed reading the story of a man who follows his inner call changing profession, following his dream with the help of his erotic Muse, who will captivate him like Calypso and spin him into the island of HaZe, where he feels secure and safe, even if the world around him crumbles, I am sure you will enjoy all other four sequels. I would appreciate it, if you give me your support and tell all your friends about it. Further please take a few minutes and comment on my website at: http://zoltanzelan.wordpress.com

If you wish to know more about me, visit: http://facebook.com/zoltan.galos

Books written by ZJ Galos can also be obtained from: amazon.com; Smashwords and online book retailers.

This book is about an artist and his unusual Muse.

Aphrodite Encumbered

Book I Celestial Sparks

Book II Flame of Tryst

Book III Firestorm

Book IV Ashes

Book IV Sea and Sky

This work is dedicated to the community of mature lovers and it is Adult Reading Material.

Prologue

I longed for Athens. Since years of procrastination, since pain of loss had left me stranded in an upheaval of inner conflict, I felt like a tap of water having run dry. I had more than one piece of luggage still left in the city of my greatest adoration to any other city I had travelled in my life. My sorrow that dominated my life through the loss of a woman I had loved, overwhelmed me. It had chiseled deep grooves into my soul that rose to become mighty columns of the great temple I had a relationship with all my life. The glow of marble that turned into the flesh and skin of a human being in the morning sun had vanished. I longed for love that could open the door of creation. I longed for touches that resembled the high art of Classical times buried deep within me. It had to be the legacy of great art and love handed down to me: artist to artist, poet to poet, lover to lover.

Then there she was, a woman looking for me, and even from a distance touching me constantly. I gazed at her face that had the sensuality of a woman making love: Lips opened and her head tilted to the side. She sat behind a niche at the Parthenon temple, where I had been attracted to its higher elevation for a breathtaking view over the city of Athens. It felt as exciting to sneak up to the spot and scan across the mighty sprawl of the city’s building cubes, as witnessing the woman touching herself. Her skirt up, she revealed the movements of her fingers along her moist vulva. I stood mesmerized, unable to move, as if I had become part of one of the marble columns. I felt my chest heaving, my breathing getting shorter. My throat felt dry and my face flushed as I sensed that she was nearing her climax. At her autoerotic peak she threw herself back, her blouse opened up to reveal a pair of full breasts, her nipples red and hard stood out like pointing fingers.

I felt instantly aroused by this accidental happening, the voyeur in me burst open and I felt my hard-on pushing at my chinos. She looked up and waved at me. I must have slid toward her in a trance. Her hand grabbed my penis while I opened my belt. Denuded of my pants, she took my phallus with her one hand and pulled me close to her breasts. The moment’s emotion made me feel as if I had fallen from the skies, desiring a love that made me as vulnerable to her as she was to me. She caressed me the gentlest way a woman had ever caressed me, folding her breasts over my cock. Then she lowered herself, her face chafing against my erection. Her lips played on my crown and her skills of oral love turned on my want to penetrate her as she took me in.

Aphrodite encumbered

Inert your powers

over men and women

one armed

your choice of a symposium

thru’ callipygian Aphrodite

arched over drums of

luminous pentelic marble

you stir to sudden

joyous life.

1

Work demands time and occupies the greater part of our lives. I would like to work on my favourite design, my favourite painting that I wish to create from conceptual sketches. I draw at all times, day and night. I am an artist–nomad and travel the places I like to visit, in my mind. I enjoy art and have enjoyed it all my life, but most of all I want to know the truth about love. Of course, anybody who is not plain materialistic in attitude would like to know about the truth of love, otherwise philosophy would not exist.

I have three building sites to look after and inspect on a regular basis. Clients are recommended to me through a friend. By word of mouth I have been building a good reputation and by being busy it I could earn me a reasonable living. I think that I am blessed, even if at times I had to struggle to make ends meet. I could secure design and consultation work in an environment that progressively became more and more difficult for professionals to exist in. Not being a racist or a smart politician, I noticed white faces disappearing continually and tensions between people of all races erupted regularly, as groups formed and took sides. Most of the blame pointed to the new emerging government that had failed to create enough work for all citizens.

I do not intend to meddle in other people’s lives or place one state of believers over another, as the credo of healing mankind from their pressurized daily worries definitely is certainly not in the hand of politicians, otherwise all our human problems would have been resolved since mankind voted for the first democratic rule. There is no such magical country with such a magical government and perfect laws and justice that serves everybody equally, unless one lives as utopian. But there are countries striving to reach a level of set rules and laws, in general accepted by the citizens that turn them into human beings observing them, rather than becoming maniacs.

Driving out of my garage I open my sliding security gate by remote signal and look up and down the street with an ingrained alertness, left and right and over my shoulders not to miss a dead angle straining my neck in the process. At times I observe suspicious people at street corners as I stop for the passing traffic and before I join the sporadic traffic flow.

Byron’s domicile is close by, a few minutes traversing 12th Street and turning into 1st Street West, down into a dip of the road and up again toward a circle. I can see the pristine white wall of Mr Chart that dominates the hill on the opposite side of Parklands where I come from. The panhandle entrance has become familiar to me having missed its concealed gate for the first time. I see the builder and his crew of selected foreign workers laying bricks as fast as possible. I am glad the staunch Afrikaner foreman and his labourers are one team. There seems to be no hatred or tensions between the different race groups at this building site. The well-oiled team is set out to work efficiently and the foreman directs his crew in a mix of English and Afrikaans, with words in an African language mixed into it, to construct my imagined design depicted on a blueprint into the reality of bricks and mortar, plaster and paint. When an argument ensues, he waves the blueprint at his head worker, who consults with him the courses of brickwork and the setting out procedure.

I feel being on a different planet and a world I know well. The reports of violence and the media hysterics of rape and murder are left far behind. In all this oscillation of life’s realities the truth is not pleasant and crime remains a huge problem in the Africa of the South. It has to be curbed by positive attitudes and it can only be curbed by efforts of all people of this country of natural wonders, not merely by leaders who do not live up to a respected leadership. Most effective changes come from the people, from the grassroots of a nation. There are many examples in history about it.

I am impressed with the speed Don’s team places the sets of twin columns into its bases on the refurbished west façade. I control the setting out with him starting from the main entrance stairs. We will place the new staircase once the decorative wall, resembling a Classicistic Stoa, has been entirely set out in its position. I call it the ‘Deco-wall,’ due to its symbolic playfulness that came to me as an inspiration. First time the client called me the concept started to form in my mind. Elements of a pyramid’s outline are set in contrast to decorative stone cladding, which enjoys the revival of a local industry again. Variations in stone cladding have become a present day revolution in decoration and refurbishments of facades. In this instance it is for me rather an accent, a wall that presents the character of the owners in a timeless way, not just a pastiche of fashion.

Byron allows me to live out my creative talent, after all he is not a plain ‘bean counter,’ but an intelligent person who listens to my conceptual ideas I discuss with him regularly.

The job might be small, but the challenge to produce an artistic renovation is a great challenge for me. I assume that he is shrewd enough to know that, or so I read his wife’s comments about their discussions. I love this line of my work.

2

I met her on an Internet site for travelers. A friend invited me to join this specific program that caters for an exchange between globetrotters of the world, to share information and some insider tips for visiting countries in Europe and Asia. I found the site interesting, but then forgot about it as other matters demanded my complete attention. I helped my friend, an engineer, to move house and support him in the process of reconditioning his trusted motorcar.

I am Hana, she wrote, and I speak your languages, German and English. She was curious about my travelling time to Greece. Are you coming for a visit, or do you live in Athens? I responded to her messages via the program for travelers. She had a good command of English and her German matched the neglected German language of mine. Suddenly I realised that she had opened a door for me I had closed for communication. Four years ago I banged the door close.

My senses thawed. I had feelings that I could reawaken the past and resurrect my love for the city dominated by its jewel of the ‘Sacred Rock.’ Suddenly I longed for standing again on its elevated precipice with the greatest view, in the shadow of its magnificent Parthenon temple, symbol for eternity with its many hidden meanings built into its architecture.

I straightened up. I liked Hana, but how could I like her if I had not met her yet? She might not match to me and I would be disappointed having placed my hopes too high. But I wanted to run away to Greece on instinct, immediately. I knew that I would love Hana and that way embrace the Classical and Hellenistic art of Greece that I only understood through love. I yearned for more depth on the subject, and to become absorbed into it and finally live its art. I wanted to stir the pieces of art and sculpture that lived an incarcerated life in the many museums to come to life again.

Are you there? Hana appeared through a comm.’s window at siesta time.

Yes, I am here! We exchanged pleasantries and photographs, and as soon as she saw my picture she responded to send me hers.

I noticed her pale blue eyes and her chestnut brown hair in curls, when she air dried them after bathing. Talk for me is important, she typed at a delayed pace into the chat window everybody uses. She intended to change to more sophisticated ones, which were less frequented by the growing crowd of Internet communicators.

I felt never bored communicating with Hana and I was amazed how alive she behaved.

You are highly responsive Hana, I typed feverishly into the dialogue box.

I like your face Zeni, she responded.

Our verbal exchanges flowed with more comparisons of likes and dislikes. The speed with which one is confronted to get to know each other has dramatically increased since for years. I could hardly keep up with it, but Hana fascinated me

We could talk better, when he is not here, she said.

"Who is not here?

My ageing husband, she sighed.

I see, you are not pleased with his presence?

He is a good man, but close to 82 now. She burst into a typing activity telling me about her present state of life.

OK, I said, be glad you are married, although it might feel like a curse at times, it is rather a safe haven when everything adventurous fails.

"Are you married?’ Her curiosity never stopped, intending to know as much about me as possible in this first attempt of personal exploration.

Yes.

I am suppressed, she said.

"Why?

He keeps me locked up like a virgin.

A virgin?

Well that’s how I feel, as he has not touched me in more than ten years!

Well, I do not mind touching you.

Would you? She beamed and I sensed it.

But we are far apart, I said.

Well what do you do?

I masturbate, I said, everybody does it. Don’t you do it?

Yes, I do it too, she replied.

Well, let’s do it together then. Hana excited me, she had animalistic instincts and I became hard talking to her.

I want to see you! she exclaimed, but for now let’s do it with words.

"Where are you?

I am in the kitchen. She typed her words at a slower pace and I sensed that she had a laptop. I was aroused and intended to communicate that to her.

OK, I will take my pants off now, I said.

I only have an apron on, she stated.

I am feeling good with you Hana, I need to come!

I need it too, let’s do it! she typed.

Fantasy plays a huge role and it releases us from our sexual tensions. I wish to play slowly and never rush my horses. Noticing that I have turned older I am handicapped by being slower. However Hana signals me that she is ready to peak. Come! She shouts, with typos, cum, come!

YES, I type feverishly pulling on my cock. Yes, it is pleasant and easy to have, ‘the sweet thing’ alone, but nothing beats the ‘sweet cyber thing’ together, as the climax is greater.

Of course real sexual pleasure in flesh and blood is unsurpassed by any other means to release it.

Thank you for helping me, she said.

Don’t thank me, I replied " We both liked it. So call it a level of communication in sex. Thanks to IP-gurus and Bill Gate’s teams of creating an electronic station high above the cloud-covers for us, where we could meet, where our juices flow.

3

Work suddenly stopped at Byron’s building site due to a number of reasons. Deep roots from an existing blue gum tree had been discovered. The owner had taken the tree down, as it had been leaning against his terrace. The tree cutters had prepared the huge tree for firewood, but had left the roots in the ground. Foundations were not possible to be cast for the new Stoa wall without removing the rotting roots below. I called Carl the structural engineer to discuss a possible method of bridging over the roots. Quite right, he mumbles rubbing his chin, as he gazes into the dug hole where the roots cannot be completely removed below the existing structure of the terrace plinth, besides the depth is too shallow for his estimate. You have to place a pile-type foundation to either side of the roots, he concludes. Let me see it before you will cast the concrete, will you? he addresses the heavy set builder. Don nods and takes a drag on his cigarette. The sun nears the midday zenith and the temperature has climbed to its daily peak. Carl moves the palm of his hand across his bald shaven head and walks away ignoring Don, who harbours animosity towards the athletic engineer, who turns around suddenly. His alert eyes fix the stare of the builder. He knows that Don will bully his labourers to deal with the problem in a makeshift way, as soon as he has left the building site. Don will be trying to take shortcuts to get away as cheaply as possible from a problem. I do not wish to come here again and see that you’ve done otherwise as I instructed you.

Carl is adamant to have proper foundations and the burly Don is stepping from one leg onto the other murmuring incomprehensible words. If all building sites would be supervised for laying proper foundations the way Carl does it, when structures would have no cracks and the quality of building would be satisfactory. I can see that in the present government, Carl mutters, all is just talk.

Indeed all’s just talk, Don echoes agreeing with Carl in order to get rid of the engineer who would cut into his profit margin. I am the site ombudsman who tries to reach agreements with all participants, an impossible task. I have learned that as a supervising head one has to aim high in order to get close to the best solution and as close as possible to good finishes. In all of these controlling activities we still have fun creating some surprises with design elements that at first are neither appreciated by the client, nor the one dimensional builder. Innovative design is seen as something vague by the client, who intends to raise the value of his property, but is afraid of any creative design details. He rather conforms to a market dominated by smarmy estate agents, who think to know the going trend and think of themselves knowledgeable about architecture. Then of course there is the family, whose members are constantly interfering directing the builder to their own ideas of how the final result has to look.

The builder has a look at the design of the architect and considers all unusual design as a nuisance, as it means specialist labour he cannot or will not intend to employ. Having priced the project as a sub-contractor to the man he calls ‘The Boss,’ he will be soon squeezed hard from both sides. From the architect, as he is placed into the shoes of the responsible builder on site, and from his employer, who has agreed with him a rate for his work. On top the owner interferes with his own wishes and confuses the builder, who cannot possibly serve all his masters. As we talk of private domestic work, the role of the architect remains a balancing act of realizing his design without compromising too much on his concept. However daily visits to the building site are important to guide the foreman and his labourers when the builder is watching a rugby game at

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