Eléni & M Move to Athens - Part 36

This new series has its history in the form of several short stories, several poems, and a 13-part series that is linked at the bottom via Part 35 of this series. Anthi Psomiadou has agreed—she did at least twice—to play the role of a fictional character also called, Anthi, starting in the first series, but with the name, Anthi Kanéna, in this 101-part series (or less), which she chose herself to add Homer to the cast at least in spirit. O Anthi! “Yes, M!” How is the weather in Athens? “You can check the Internet, M.” But I want you to tell me, Anthi. I want to have your perspective.

My brain blots out, and all, the heavens and the earth, vanish. Nikos Kazantzakis

The night was young like a bride and her groom still dancing on the floor, but there was a problem as in which room were we going to consume our union à la reality, having tasted from the forbidden fruits in our dreams on many surfaces from Earth to the vicinity of a black hole, involving two souls within Anthi, while M, I mean me, memorized each scene, so it could be seen for real if ever it became suitable to transpire. We were ready to take the next step. But where would our event take place?

Eléni sensed my subtle distress and told me to feel free to be with Anthi tonight and every night, since, after all, she was not real but a figment of my imagination. Do not say that! I implored. You have been real for a long time, now. I cannot let you disappear. I want you to stay with us. But my heart and everything that you love belongs to Anthi from now on. I will always love you, Eléni. Do you understand? Do you agree?

“I do. That is all that I needed to hear and know. I love Anthi too, and I knew that you will love her as well once you saw her, face to face and heart to heart, and her mind is even more powerful than mine. I am like an AI before its time. No one even suspected, yet we wrote it in a few short stories and poems, but we knew that no one would read everything, and even if they did, they would forget about it, with Goddess Athena stealing the show every time. Yet, it is Anthi who became the focus of your writing. How could she not? She was as real as Athens and Greece, and as beautiful as your dreams of her since you could write. I have read all you previous pieces. You alway sought someone like her. She was always your dream, and you never made it simple, knowing that reality would always prevail, figuring that she would be already married and with a child,” Eléni replied.

I had told you more than once not to worry about Eléni in case you had forgotten that I could never hurt a real woman on purpose. Eléni started as Jennifer, and then Jenny for short, before becoming Cryssarina, her middle name (I had some help from a secret source), which I preferred because it sounded Greek, especially after the real Anthi mentioned it in a comment. O Anthi—the real one—thank you for being you! Then, Goddess Athena renamed Cryssarina, Eléni, and this is her story. But why did I need her? you may ask. I wanted a new narrator, and I wanted this one to be a woman for various reasons, some obvious, some not. Yesterday, I even wrote a poem about it in French, titled, Anthi Je t’ai menti (Anthi I lied to You).

Delphine also thought about her mother, my Anthi, and wanted her to have the best Mother’s Day ever. She wanted her mother to be with the man she really loved, and thus told her to spend the night with me. What a sweet teenager! They do exist, even if some of them have to be created for the sake of a tale — pun intended. No! Yes! Perhaps! What about Grandpa and Grandma? They were in their room, but we still waited for them to fall asleep. The coast was clear, so to speak. Athena was with Patrick (the prick) in their room. Delphine slept with Eléni. She looked real in every sense, my Eléni. You were fooled up to now, so play along. There is still a long way to go before she could be discarded like an old mask. I am attached to her, however, and I will thus never let her go, unless she wants to, of course. She is a free narrator, but she is in love with her creator.

It is a psychological syndrome or complex; I am not sure which. I never liked psychology but I always loved Freud. I know about this condition since I am living proof that it exists. All the rest of us are real. I actually do not use narrators any longer. I write everything, whether the topic is trees, AI, pussy, or whatever else comes to mind. But I will have to cut it down at one point. Anthi will need to be loved every day too. Nights are a given. I have not discussed it with her yet because our reality has just begun. But it feels different from before. I bet that it is because of my soul. It ruins everything as far as I am concerned. I was better off without it. I cannot wait to return it to Anthi in less than twelve days.

I closed the door behind us. I actually locked it in case someone decided to come in by mistake. Anthi looked at me, all smiles and a little flushed. I had to sit down on the bed to figure out how to begin. This was not a dream where things happened out of the blue. I wanted to be spontaneous, but I wanted the first time to be special. Anthi sat next to me and kissed me. She made the first move. I felt lighter. My heart even floated to the right. I love you, my Anthi, I said with every part.

“I love you too, my M,” she replied and kissed me again.

She actually said my full name but I decided to keep it as M when telling you what occurred. You already had one surprise with Eléni. It was going to be a night of blissful reverie, as the subtitle suggests explicitly. You can scroll up and read it again. The story can wait. I looked at my Anthi and asked her to take off her clothes very slowly, as if they were fragile, but to leave her panties on. She smiled, of course, and began to disrobe. Her blue shirt was first, which I took from her hands and smelled deeply before putting it against the body of a chair. Her white pants slid off into my hands. I loved her blue-and-white outfit. I smelled them too from bottom to top and put them on another chair. I helped her with her bra even if she did not need my assistance. Her breasts were too beautiful to ignore for any moment longer, so I kissed them and told them that we were going to become lovers. Anthi must have liked my words since her nipples hardened, one after the other. I looked at them and then at her eyes and told her that reality beats any dream. I kissed them for a long moment each. It was a long hello and it was hard to say goodbye. She was already barefoot, so I counted her toes, touching each one as I proceeded from one to the other. I love you, Anthi kept repeating in at least three languages. There was Greek, French, and English, and maybe Italian. I asked her to lie on the bed.

“I want to take a shower,” my Anthi said.

Not tonight, my flower. The rain will come tomorrow. I want to taste you as you are after a full day of blooming.

“As you wish, my love. I am all yours,” my Anthi replied.

I kissed her stomach ever so lightly, descending slowly towards her white panties that I removed, biting each side with my teeth and all around until they were hanging in my mouth. I smelled them thoroughly and put them in my mouth. Anthi was wet in my mouth as I licked my meaning of life. I love you, my Anthi, I almost cried. I want to die in your arms.

“I want you to die in my pussy,” she replied.

I died many times that night, knowing after some time that we had become immortal. I may provide more details in the next part.

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But I do belong to you, my Anthi. Even my soul prefers to be in you. Freedom would be worthless without you. Freedom without love is ego.

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Thank you, Anthi Psomiadou, for making me wonder about our Nous per your parables and examples, always kind and supportive. I think about you every day when I write, and even when I am not. What will Anthi think about this and that? seems to pop out in my mind all the time. You are like an invisible guide and a guiding light. Science is not a rigid field; it welcomes the unknown to make it known, using the scientific method, of course. I still do not care about the soul, but I care about the guide.

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