Space Cadets Reunite (part one)
By: Mimi Bordeaux
Tags: Love Letters, Storytelling, Queer, Party, Love

Planet Chronos

A Rebel’s Prompt: A Grand Party

Hallelujah! It’s way past 2000 now. In fact many times, eras and minutes have flown busily through giving years devoted to nothing. It’s 2021, at the party of the Star-1. This open party is extra fancy, be it special grand; made for us, the randy jiving howling fleet of flamingo-folk flaming on the red turf of Planet Chronos situated just north of Star-1. Meteorite bright flashes fizzling through the night air lighting up every little peach pulsar. Situated close to Sirius her fire steams off the body celestial lifting amber flow.

We drive in on our engine-rumbling shifter smoothly unboarding, all four of us clambering out kissing the air. The Milkyway floats through and around each star and asteroid, the surface so close by flicking away specks of dust like lone star gremlins.

Music blasts from the chariot-amp planted on the landing platform. ‘Supernova Noise Makers’ play world tunes formed by a 4 over 4 beat made with drums guitars and a dribbling bass gurgling down the drains of our open mouths.

After heavily grooming myself in a scented bathroom’s mirror I waltz on out determined to enjoy tonight’s invocations finding my best planetary cadet, Streak sitting alone. After casual chitchat, it’s time for passion to be let aflame. I climb atop her lap, kissing luscious lips, her pale neck making me amorous, biting teeth sucking in red, oozing, licking the blood of the Her Hierarchy the female contingent here tonight. Lipstick-bright- scarlett mouth, curving smile saucy minded gives me a forward glance. After an intense session of dreamy caresses tingling the spine and wetting my undergarments, I wander off leaving a ‘see you anon’, slowing down before the mosaic tinted archway passage entry to the main hall.

My persona is ever red and black. Open-faced material meeting the proletariat pouring in the doors ready to hover, handle and mate. My surface facade now on display I watch a dancing troupe tripping up on their laces falling over with laughter, then I take the left corner leading outside. Jones comes to me whispering ‘do you have any words?’ ‘I’m looking for Miss Sundown.

Where would she be?’ I ask of him turning head to head.

‘I know your disheartening feeling, m’lady’ he says looking afar with glassy eyes.

‘I’m going to find her now!’ I rant leaping forth not looking but totally focussed.

So far I have been here for over two hours, sitting on a cushion, reading aloud to my friends and paramours while listening to Liszt an early 20th century favorite along with the trippy trance of the modern-day muse.

I’m passed by a sensual, serious siren who appears close to perfection; a description I never have used before. Noticing me and slipping into the chair opposite with amazing grace I look at her face, gleaming, glowing but pale and wistful. Finally, she laughs lifting me off the ground, frisky and fiery. Her strong arms whisk me in the air. This wanton, wispy woman is dreaming in indigo and charcoal taking me with her.

Well, here we come to the end. No reveal here to finish my story. To be honest it was quite a drag to keep up and stimulate myself and you. Time to go home, alone fazed and dazed. Pushing my puss to the other side I clamber into our warm cozy bed, falling asleep immediately. Dreamland awaits.