MIDNIGHT FAIRY(Francys Wagner) She would meet him, on nights she would be performing, at the bar next to the theatre after the end of the last session of the play, and he would bring her to his place.
She would be eager to be just the lover, without a crowd.
Without the stage, without applause...
In the twilight of his room, she was no longer the young actress, but just the woman, who he longed for, while his lit eyes roamed over her body, which would reveal itself as she moved facetiously and pieces of clothing fell to the floor... revealing a body of sensual curves accentuated by the black corset and garter stockings.
She would remove the heavy make-up, leaving the character of the play, transforming into various versions of herself as a female, performing for a single spectator.
She would be the vedette who aroused him with a striptease... the dancer who turned him on with belly dance, chair dancing, lap dancing, pirouetting until she joined her body to his...
He would lie down on the bed, naked, warmed by passion...
The hair on his legs, arms and chest standing up, febrile...
The blood throbbing strongly in his veins. His chest pounding like a drum, knowing in premeditated delight, what is about to happen...
She would approached the bed, her long dark wavy hair that she would let loose falling over her shoulders...In her face, an insinuating gaze...
"You're on the wrong side of the bed. Are you going to get out or do I have to force you?", she would say, playing with him...
The left side was always hers, that's where she slept. He never asked her the reason, but he thought it was either, her superstition or to reaffirm her political convictions...
He would stretch out his naked body there. To be sweetly coerced to move...
He would say not a thing, just would shake his head, with a grin on his face...
Her mouth would meet his with passion...
Her kisses were powerful. She did things no other woman would dare to do.
Her mouth and tongue would work all over his body, bringing him sensations never before experienced. Making part of his body swell more than it ever had before.
Like magic, she would pull a long artificial feather out of her character's hat and would tickle him, making him convulse but not flee, then with her long nails, she would scratch him like a noxious cat, and he moaning with anticipatory pleasure...
Their limbs would entwine in an acrobatic, frenzied ballet. Her, in control and riding a muscle padded saddle, and he, invited to explore and discover secrets and hidden treasures among valleys, mountains and caves...
The night was endless... running around the large flat, in the old building.
On the bedside clock it would be around midnight and for the next hours sounds would fill the room, only near dawn they would fade away, from their exhaustion, replaced by the city sounds outside...
Felicia, who would come to his bed like lightning and would shake his world. In a powerful way like an earthquake, a hurricane, that would leave him off balance, but very happy...
For many nights they enjoyed themselves, in an intense connection, body and soul...
He had plans for her to stay with him. His home would be hers...
But, on that unforgettable night, when he would propose it to her...
Felicia, his beautiful Felicia, naked, with a bottle in her hand spun towards the balcony, in a dance to arouse him. She went through the open curtains, him following her with his eyes across the balcony.
The balustrade so low...
It was the absinthe's fault...
The ballet took her too far. Beyond the balcony.
The Midnight Fairy flew without wings. Her face kissed the cobblestones.
Her eyes open from the last instant. Her body no longer dancing...
Among the strands of her hair, a thick, red pool growing across the street.
She's gone, and took with her part of him...
Life has no meaning now...
His heart aches...
The room is mute without her tuneful voice singing temptation...
It looks so empty. The immense four poster bed seems so cold...
There is no longer the heat of her body...
He's in bed, on the left side. Her perfume lingers on everything.
His half-naked body burns in addiction, a compulsion of demonised love, a convulsion of anaesthetic bought from a liquor store.
What's the point of being sober?
His voice comes out like an old man's.Trembling, a crying that breaks out in the throat and spills over the eyes...
Some nights, he returns to the bar beside the theatre, where he first saw her.
A vain and insane hope of meeting her again and bring her home...
In a latent desperation, in trying to elude himself...
And in a trick of the mind, later, inebriated, back home, lying in bed, he waits for her...
He rolls over on the sheets. What is he feeling? Passion? It really was, anything but love...
In his reveries, she is there taking off her clothes, and comes to him...
Her face turns to his. On the bed. On the left side.
She is deeply... pale... and smiling...
"Felicia" he says trapping her name on his tongue, believing in the illusion of seeing his lover beside him.
"You are on the wrong side of the bed. Will you leave or do I have to force you?"
He can hear her soft voice...
But the woman neither kisses nor strokes him.
He can not feel the warmth of her body.
Yet she looks so real; deceived, he tries to touch her...
She stands up, black garter stockings, high heels...
She lures him by waving her fingers.
To the fluttering curtains. The balcony...
"Come! Come and dance with me!"
He goes... Beyond the balustrade. Everything is blurry.
He can not see her anymore...
His body leans over, almost falling, but in a glimpse of lucidity, he holds on to the parapet.
His eyes dispel the fog and all he sees, are the stones of the street that he doesn't want to kiss...

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