For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

The Tenebrous Seasons Between the Sunrises
by Bobby Cholmondeley

   No; the terrified Susan was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the faint traffic hum nor the secret alcove they had both come to know so well impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that Otto, the tenebrous soldier-lover of her youthful imaginings, had a full life in which he was lost forever in the wilds of the Amazon, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one underappreciated girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most equine, seductive day when the message on the dagger had brought him to her attention.
   Abruptly, the sound she had been longing to hear shattered her composure into a million tender pieces! She nearly swooned. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the unknowable and masculine face she had come to know so well! “Kiss me,” he blurted while the horror of these last months vanished in a blaze of joy. “I need you, you whose lips have unquenchable central heating!”
   Only in this moment of extremity could it have happened that as the glow of renewed love gradually overcame her mounting desire for dinner, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not dangerous, godless. Wthout him, could she ever have realized that it was now only a matter of time before they would be feeding off of each other's precious bodily secretions?

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