NEW DARK FICTION: The car screeched to a halt.

 

The car screeched to a halt. He pushed open the passenger door and flung himself out, spilling his lean body over the crisp tarmac. He picked himself up and part ran, part crawled towards the edge of the road - the ditch, crying as whimper, as he struggled to make his way. But before he could slide into the bliss, into the dirt, two booted feet came to rest in front of him. He dropped his head in resignation, his brow stroking the cool asphalt.

"Please." He whispered. "Please."

There was silence. The night was heavy, the moon lay in its crescent, its light playing across his back - from shoulder to ass. He waited in patience, the patience of ages - reserved for the gods.

Eventually it was time to raise his head, at the same time one of the boots raised itself to greet him. He pushed out his lips and delicately touched the hard yet subtle leather with a pout. The kiss was soft, chaste, like offering a kiss to the feet of a saint, the lips of an angel.

There was magic in the air, there was magic in his head, at the back of his neck, under his arms, circling his groin. He whispered a thank you for the blessing, picked himself up, stretched back his shoulders, straightened his spine, his long legs, and strolled back towards the car, the booted feet following him as he knew they would - the immaculate conception.