Saint Spirit by Quelli di ZEd

towards her. He/she lived in stable plant in the enormous villa Monteghini, it had the possibility to consult an unbelievable quantity of recent and ancient books on the esoterismo and on all the matters that could leastly interest him/it. Further to have available the library ultracentenaria of the family Monteghini, with the economic means of Dafne you/he/she could afford the luxury to order rare texts from the immense value. In an angle set apart of the immoderate park that surrounded the imposing abode, you/he/she had started even cultivating mysterious cried by the more disparate magic ownerships. These liberties had certainly improved splendidly the quality of its life allowing him unimaginable things in its preceding condition. Of other song was perfectly aware that between the beautiful countess and he an equitable exchange of wealths had happened. He had opened her the doors of the soul disclosing her secrets of the Spirit. Its side was established to, giving her constant presence of a to be perspicacious and I lavish with which to be able to freely be expressed, with which to be able to experiment everything.

  The two didn't properly represent a couple in the sense common of the term. Two nobody was bound to the other by some obligation, they didn't go out together habitually, they were not introduced in public near, they didn't even have the habit to share the same bed during the night, also because Saint had kept on occupying its place of nighttime undertaker to the morgue. Him, in fact, to the eyes of the few extraneous that it was usual to cross, nothing had not changed in his/her life. You still introduced to the morgue arriving us with the bus, the big Jaguar of which freely usufruiva parked her/it next to the cathedral, he/she waits for for avoiding to be noticed by the colleagues. He didn't like at all to strut of his/her fortunes, so much less to answer to the indiscreet questions that would be rained him between head and neck.

  The austere automatic gate of beaten iron opened and the Jaguar disappeared in that luxuriant green that characterized the park of villa Monteghini. He/she left the keys of the auto to the butler and it climbed the ample nineteenth-century stairway of the house. It entered the immense saloon maintained in faint light thanks to the purple curtains that were protected mastodontic on the glass door of the balcony, and it immediately noticed the beautiful body of a young woman abandoned supine on the sofa, completely naked, the wide apart legs slightly. It seemed absorbed in a sort of trance, after having misused some sopraffinis pleasures.

  "I believe to have realized what is thinking, my beautiful centurione but this today this slave is not in sharing. I won't allow anybody, even to a Roman of birth, draw near to her!"

  He turned him amazed. Its lips opened him showing the beauty of its teeth imprisoned in a smile. Was Dafne! He always went crazy to like in to reenter to house to find again him to personify her/it an any eccentric character that passed for her head. Inclusive immediately that in that occasion you/he/she was reciting the role of Cleopatra VII, one of his preferred. He/she wore a long semitransparent tunic, the breasts were maliciously discovered, with the painted nipples with a dark dye, the gold and the precious stones on her they were those worthy of its role. You/he/she had been him to teach her that games and certain uninhibited licenses, and in whatever moment it was ready to follow her/it in that eccentric performance in which the storyboard was decided second in according to, where everything was instinctively impromptu and delightfully artificial.

  "My Regina, the picture that I have of forehead makes me suppose that your lust he is sbizzarrita for the nth time, and now, only in to imagine what you have been able to ask to the beautiful young girl in fainting on that sofas, it rises me natural to grant to that soul, not yet accustomed to similar licentious pleasures, the deserved rest. However you remember that he who called centurione, with that vanesios accent that countersigns you, also not exhibiting as Sir the supreme title of king, your gentleman he/she remains always, in the bed as in the regency of your kingdom defeated by the supremacy of us Romans; then break me the heart in to remember you that in my presence cannot order just anything."

  The sinuous Dafne became suspicious in a lightning. It seemed of sudden to be distressed for indeed, as if the fates of ancient Egypt were still all to end. Then in a flash it returned on his/her face the typical expression of challenge of the fascinating Cleopatra.

  "My beautiful Anthony, you Romans you are skilled in to conquer earths and in to subdue people, but then you behave you as vampires, because to the people overpowered you steal the talent, the inventions, the styles and really nothing you are able to create really. It is at the end, for irony of the fate, you find again you to obey the ideas of the foreigners that you have subdued. You think only about the calendar what time you use in Rome. Break me the heart to the solo to remember you, and my heart I assure you that it is very more strong than yours, that the beloved Caesar was very influenced by his/her conquest, that I would be me, that in the '47 inserted that famous reform Giuliana that adjusted the Roman calendar, based on the lunar cycle, with a varying duration between the 375 and the 378 days, to that solar what counted 365 days and a quarter and every four years you/he/she arrived one leap year of 366 days. All these calculations were established from Sosigene, that is my genial astrologer of court, and Caesar applied them all without beating eyelash."

  "Oh, what arrogance arouses him from the sharp lips of my beautiful lover for giunger to hum me malevolmente around the ears. Before strutting in to say that us Romans we have little imagination, you learn this motto, that has invented her for irony of the fate now, sat, a Roman for your refined limbs. Ideas are devoted and they are granted to bloom only concretely for the one who has the power to put her into effect, and this is not certain what from a little considering that the novantanove for one hundred of all today's thoughts and of tomorrow have already been conceived by qualcun'altro and that vacant a for one hundred belongs to the impracticable one, to the utopia, that it also has its roots already soaked with the influence of the fact!"

  To that point Saint changed notably the expression of its face softly stretching the mask of planned actor.

  "My dear, wants to open a parenthesis, an instant returning to be myself, to tell you that with that action Caesar has fully gained my likings, since I esteem immensely who succeeds in changing the rules of the time in this dimension showing that also it as the whole rest, are subjectively interpretable. In the dimension of the Spirit it is flared, it lengthens, him sfoca, losing all of his/her mathematics conventions, and you/they can spend ten years in a second earthling or vice versa, nothing is absolute."

  You childishly smiled at him.

  "It is all right, it is all right, petulant Roman. I grant you, rather I give you my slave, since you are now able it stuffed what you want. And when you will be among his/her braccias, I beg you not to worry you about my jealousy, I will know whether to take back me all of your intimacy to proper time."

  This way saying Dafne disappeared in the obscurity of the long dark corridor. Saint was tired after the long night in morgue. You removed shoes and jacket and been stretched on the sofa beside the young girl of silk, that any sign had not given to want him to wake up again.

  When Saint reopened the eyes he/she senselessly remained disorientated. The sofa on which it rested had disappeared, as after all around the whole furnishings belonged to another place, of certain not in the saloon that had allowed just before to fall asleep. Dafne, eccentric and fanatical as it was, it used thick to change the furnishings of the rooms of the villa. They were the choreographies for his/her performances, it said, and everything had to be authentic during his/her identifications in the various characters of the real history, of the legend or of his/her simple imagination. Saint, his/her favorite companion of life, was the only other actor of his/her imaginary theater, or better his/her peer protagonist. All the other participants to his/her screen-plays limited him to the simple role of appearances, more aware of to belong to that artificial mechanism scenografico that witnessed fixed on the atmosphere of the whole abode Monteghini.

  The masculine protagoni
st of the scene moved as soon as the eyes immediately to become himself/herself/themselves account of his/her total nudity and, after few instants, you/he/she didn't even discover the horrible his/her condition of not riuscir to move a finger.

  Diabolic bewitches! This time Dafne had exaggerated for indeed. Perhaps with the help of some exotic drug that the nervous apparatus inhibited, or perhaps thanks to a portentous paralysing ointment, done it is that the final result was his terrible and total paralysis of the body. You/he/she would not absolutely have had to afford to limit his/her liberty in that way, they were the pacts. or perhaps to well to think us their only pact equivaleva about any pact.

  The air of the room that by now seemed an ancient sacred place, as if you/he/she was found inside an Egyptian pyramid, really where the mummy of the faraone was deposed together with its treasures and to the utensils that would have served him in the other life, it was vivacizzata from a pregiatissimo odor of musk and amber. The warmth that he/she caressed him the body was in clean contrast with the irritation that quivered him inside. You/he/she could not make
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