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Smile

Romantic Dominant:

Two years gone

Originally posted on A Faded Romantic's Notebook:

In the dark

my fingers found

the curve

of her smile.

It climbed

like the sun

across her face

and lit the night

as if it were day.

.

.

Copyright the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph stolen from Dammne

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Posted by on September 2, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Miracle

Originally posted on A Faded Romantic's Notebook:

Soft August afternoon.

The garden overripe

And wild.

Tanned and indolent,

He stretched in the sun

.

Sleepy from wine

Full with bread

It only needed fish

For a miracle.

.

And so it happened.

An hour passed,

Trailed by another.

He had forgotten her

Completely.

.

.

Copyright the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo stolen from younghappy

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Posted by on August 31, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Art of Seduction

Originally posted on A Faded Romantic's Notebook:

‘The art of seduction is knowing what she really wants and slowly giving it to her in a way that takes her breath away’

Romantic Dominant

.

.

Photo stolen from NoirFeu

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Posted by on August 29, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Many a submissive girl’s fantasy

Romantic Dominant:

A blast from the past

Originally posted on A Faded Romantic's Notebook:

A past lover adored this painting

‘The Assessors’, by Jack Vettriano.

To be naked and bound.  Perhaps blindfolded.  To be examined, admired and studied intently by strangers.  Smartly dressed men.

Perhaps touched and fondled.  If the Master allows it.

It is many a submissive girl’s fantasy.

.

.

Originally posted in my blog Love Affair Diary

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Posted by on August 28, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Not an end

Fabian_Perez_Monica_and_Fabian_II

 

This is not an end

Summer is almost over. It hangs in the air, chilled by September’s cool fingers. Its faded plumage is already drooping its head, fearing the first frost. Yesterday I harvested a brave bunch of final, fragrant roses and they filled the room with romance and loss.

I have become fascinated by cloud, Wispy, delicate cirrus, puffy, storybook cumulus, layers of cumulonimbus, filling the sky. I know a coming storm by sight. And by smell. The fresh tang of rain in my nostrils. Electricity raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

The heavens are black with the future. For the first time in my life I am afraid of it. And afraid for it.

I have been adored. By women of beauty and intelligence who I usually did not deserve. I have lit candles, carried torches, and burned sacred flares through long, holy nights.  And yet I have seldom revealed my soul fully in the light. I know to some I have become a constant source of vague, haunting, nagging disappointment they have never been able to shed.

And now, today, with my life changing, I no longer feel I can be adored.

It is not simply a question of age. I am a distance from young, but some men are lucky in the way time etches their faces and imposes itself on their bodies. I am one such man. Neither is it  a dark temperament, although I can be cold and aloof, cynical and severe, and unreachable by choice. And It is certainly not about charm – I can still turn it on like a spotlight to blind and seduce.

It is something deep inside me I cannot define.

Like the taste of Autumn in the gathering breeze, or the touch of a friend as they take their leave, or the sight of smoke on the horizon.

Something is drawing to a close.

Yet this is not an end

This is a beginning.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on August 26, 2014 in Still Life

 

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Temptation

Romantic Dominant:

Two years ago

Originally posted on A Faded Romantic's Notebook:

He is trying so hard to be good.

It is not that he does not love her.  Without her his life would be without meaning.  Her light is all around him.

It is not that he is unhappy.  Especially during these recent weeks, together in their secluded, leafy home by the river, the days have been almost blissful after the detached, deceitful, untidy, complicated and eventually painfully sad years of being half away.

It is not that he still harbours angry resentment over their long-term sexual incompatibility.  His desperate unrequited desire for her has somehow become dissipated over his wicked affairs, the wanton trysts and the wild, wonderful relationships. She is his best friend. They will never be lovers again. It doesn’t matter.

But every now and then, when the night is velvet and pierced with stars.  When his gaze is caught by a stranger’s perfectly turned ankle or delicious thigh…

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Posted by on August 24, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Beyond

Originally posted on A Faded Romantic's Notebook:

Jack Vettriano - Tutt'Art@ (30)

Beyond the blindfold.

Beyond the ropes, the cuffs, the collar and the whip.

Beyond the dress, the leather, the heels, the silk.

Beyond the clamps, the toys, the oil, the pin wheel.

Beyond her kneeling, head bowed, at my feet

Beyond her stretched naked, tied to the four posts of this bed

Beyond her whispered ‘yes’

Beyond her wondrous, glorious, sacred submission.

Beyond everything

It still isn’t enough.

It is never enough

To cure this endless ache.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Jack Vettriano

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Posted by on August 22, 2014 in Uncategorized

 
 
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