Posted Monday, August 7th, 2006
The Longevity of Desire
Donna M. Kenworthy Levy
Iris could hear the festivities going on downstairs. The laughter and high spirits from below however offered no allure that could match her fascination with the scene viewed through her window. Ever so gently, she pushed the powder blue dotted Swiss curtains further aside to get a better look at the next door neighbor’s backyard.
Beauty was to be appreciated in all its forms, mused Iris, from the glorious diversity and splendor of nature to the great expressions of the human spirit in paintings, sculpture, and music. When she thought about what had brought her the greatest joys in her life, Iris would have described all the beauty she had seen and heard. In truth, she considered herself a connoisseur of finer things.
What had caught her attention on this perfect June day were not the sweet blue jays, the heavy velvety roses in crimson and mauve, nor the verdant gardenia bush laden with fragrant blossoms. What drew her focus was a perfect object of art. It was Michelangelo’s David come to life. Stretched out on a chaise lounge was a sleeping Adonis. Iris feasted upon this vision.
Iris took in every detail of this figure in repose from the way his tousled dark curls framed the chiseled features of his remarkable visage to the drape of his muscular leg dangling over the edge of the chair. His face held the refinement of a marble bust, but enlivened with the breath and warmth of a living man. She watched him fill his chest with air. The movement of his breathing in and out lulled her into a reverie. She felt herself slip through the window and float down to the bedded god. As she slowly descended, her long blonde hair billowed out behind her, almost like an angel’s wings.
In every detail, the David of stone was replicated in this mortal man. Iris bent over this naked perfection and pressed her lips against his fuller ones. How warm and cushioned they felt to her. Then she took in his scent . . . first from his nostrils where she breathed in his hot breath, then to the crook of his neck, and finally down to the center of his hirsute chest to inhale deeply from that special place where men emit an aroma of maleness. Thus was her sensuality awakened.
Iris became liquid and poured herself over the sleeping David. She used every one of her finely tuned senses to see, hear, taste, smell, and touch the beauty beneath her. She writhed in an ecstasy of sensual delights. Multiple sensations peaked over and over again. After exploring his essence and swathing him in her presence, she was overcome by a desire to merge with this beautiful being. She longed to be totally one with him.
Using her powers of mind, she entered his dream world, where he stood waiting for her. Taking her in his arms, he whispered, “Now let me know you.” Just hearing his words made Iris swoon. With passion compelling him, he lifted Iris and carried her over to a large settee strewn with satin coverlets. His hand was upon her full breast and . . .
“Grandma! Grandma, can you hear me?” asked Alissa, while shaking Iris’ shoulder.
“Yes, dear, I hear you quite well.”
“You looked like you were in some kind of catatonic state!”
“I must have been daydreaming.”
“Everybody’s waiting to sing Happy Birthday to you. Come along now,” she said. “I’ll help you downstairs.”
Iris stole a quick glance outside for another eyeful of beauty before getting up from her favorite chair by the window.
"Gosh, Grandma, can you believe you’re 85 years old today?”
“No, I can’t actually. It doesn’t seem possible.”
This story is dedicated to my beloved grandmother-in-law, Bertha, of blessed memory. When she was 85, she told me how she had never aged inside. Every morning when she awoke and stood before the mirror, she was shocked to see her aged face. She confided that on the inside, she still felt exactly the way she did when she was 16 . . . in all respects.
Comments [post a comment]
Posted by Rhayn Time on Monday, August 7th, 2006 at 10:27 PM
Eloquently engaging. Thank you.
Posted by sTAN Garfin [ Fin311@cox.net
] on Wednesday, August 9th, 2006 at 2:45 AM
My Aunt Bertha always said she would not pass away. It was her way of saying how much she enjoyed life. It is this part, of my Beloved Aunt Bertha, that is a part of me daily and how I truly enjoy life. I cherish each day and in no way feel my age. I thank the almighty each day for the life that he has given me to share with Family and Friends.
Thanks for the inspiration to express my feelings...Job well done...
Posted by Reba Karp [ email@example.com
] on Wednesday, August 9th, 2006 at 1:07 PM
I was so drawn into the story that the ending took me totally by surprise.
I do believe the writer touched a responsive chord in many women, for I truly believe that most have a secret "David."
Posted by Saleh Razzouk [ firstname.lastname@example.org
] on Thursday, August 10th, 2006 at 3:06 AM
I guess death is only a notion with it we concur the obstacles and pains of reality. Life is continuous and eternal in either ways : body and soul. For example a grave of a grand father is placed in our backyard. We keep a candle next to his head to lead his steps in darkness when coming back to the coffin after an excursion.
In the city citadel a grave of a saint is there. Imagine that the length of the dead reaches 30 and plus meters . it is a man from Noah's age.
We will not die, our heart is white and capable.
In short this story is v good.
Saleh Razzouk ( Journalist ).
Posted by Angela Nolan [ email@example.com
] on Thursday, August 10th, 2006 at 6:42 AM
Another lovely and surprising story, Donna. It reminded me that we can hold onto anything in our hearts, which is where we truly live.
Posted by Barbara Ganz on Thursday, August 10th, 2006 at 7:31 PM
I hope that Donna will write a story each month. I love her vivid visuals and way with words that make such well written accounts. We do stay the same on the inside even though the exterior changes!
Posted by Pearl Pirie on Thursday, August 17th, 2006 at 8:22 AM
I like this. A great story with a bonus of it contradicting myth of seniors as asexual.
Posted by Norma Trent on Monday, October 9th, 2006 at 5:25 PM
Thank you for a great story. As I age, I am amazed at the person staring back at me in the mirror, she keeps getting older while inside I am still 20! Great reminder that while the outside changes, we can still dream and become 20 again!
Posted by Donia Carey on Wednesday, October 11th, 2006 at 1:35 PM
Donna, I just discovered this story while looking through the archives. It's filled with sensuality and beauty, and a wonderful tribute to your grandmother. What a lovely birthday gift to find in your garden--sure beats tomato worms!