I thought I would share a short story that I wrote awhile ago. This is just a small portion of the story.
“Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix poured out of her Bluetooth speakers. As Hendrix played, her boyfriend continued to kiss her neck. She forgot all about her boyfriend because all she could think about was what a loss. It was sad to her that someone as great as Hendrix could die so young. Her poster of the musician was on the ceiling above her bed. She focused on it as the song played on. Her boyfriend began to unbutton her royal blue blouse cautiously; not noticing her mind was elsewhere.
The lavender and strawberry candles Sierra lit over an hour ago still filled the room. A Miles Davis poster was in the room as well but did not get the attention Hendrix did. “Purple Haze” was her favorite Jimi Hendrix song. She had learned the song was not about drugs like most people believed – it was about a dream. He wrote the song after reading a science fiction magazine about a purple death ray.
Supposedly the song is loosely based on Philip Jose Farmer’s story titled Night of Light-Day of Dreams. In the book, the sun in the daytime would turn from a normal blinding white light into a pale violet one surrounded by dark red causing dizziness. During these times, people would go through something called the Chance. For seven days, these people would go crazy and commit suicide or whatever until the fog passed. The book said people’s deep-rooted subconscious desires surface during this time known as the Night of Light. Sierra hoped to one day experience a dream so powerful.
This thought was interrupted when her boyfriend flipped her shoulder-length black hair and kissed her neck again. Sometimes Sierra would space out when Hendrix was playing. She would pay no attention to her boyfriend because the famous guitarist was in full command. Again, she began to faze out when she felt Greg trying to undo her bra.
She could still smell the mix of the lavender and strawberries. Despite the sensual scent of the candles, she didn’t feel in the mood to do anything with Greg. She had bought a Dave Matthews Band poster recently for five dollars. Miles Davis and Dave Matthews Band together would have been a dream concert if Davis was still alive. She enjoyed the presence of the musicians in her room more than that of her boyfriend.
“You are beautiful,” Greg whispered as he rubbed her legs. Drops of perspiration from her thighs formed small circles on her tattered dark wash jeans.She was getting turned on as he rubbed her inner thighs. Her mouth opened and her deep brown eyes sparkled. She had so much saliva in her mouth she felt like spitting but did not. She swallowed and gulped hard. Her body temperature increased and she had to stop Greg before too much pleasure took over.