dotinthesky | (no subject)

Her affair with Elvis Presley began on the 18th of October, 2004, around 10 p.m. She was lying on her bed, exhausted from the Las Vegas return flight, when she heard his voice. He called her from the corner of the bedroom, a low whisper that stretched into a song. She hit the alarm clock, thinking the radio was on. Then she raised herself and squinted her eyes.

"I've got a gun... a Sig Sauer P226!" She screamed. "I'll put a bullet between your forehead if I have to!"

He chuckled and stepped out of the shadows. His sideburns glowed with gel, his sunglasses reflected her gape-mouthed face.

"Is-is-is... this some kind of joke?"

"No it isn't," he answered, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking her feet. "You brought me back to life when you visited Las Vegas."

Although she could feel his southern hands touching her, his body was ethereal and transparent. The chicken dish in the airplane was spoiled, she concluded; she was hallucinating from food poisoning.

During the next days, she discovered why Elvis thrust his hips in such a hypnotic way. Her co-workers remarked on her flushed looks, or how she was prone to little screams and sighs throughout the day when she thought nobody was looking. Dark bags grew under her eyes from all the sleepless nights.

Months went by before she had to beg Elvis to leave her alone. He no longer cared whether she was on the phone with Steven Spielberg, or in an important meeting; he'd always be there, stroking her body, whispering dirty words into her ears. Rumours began to spread she might get fired.

Finally, seeing no other option, she asked her boss for a holiday and booked a ticket to London.

"But why are you leaving me?" Elvis cried, holding her to his chest. "If you go to London I won't be able to follow you."

"I know! That's exactly why I'm going! I need a good night sleep."

She boarded the airplane on that rainy December night with prayers that she would never see Elvis again. He tried to hold her back as she walked the tarmac, songs and promises escaping his lips. Finally, as the airplane reached the Atlantic ocean, his voice disappeared. She closed her eyes and sighed with relief.

But, when she arrived in London's Heathrow, there stood another glowing figure, arms outstretched to receive her. She didn't have to ask his name... she knew Sid Vicious from so many pictures.

Oh wow! I love it soooooooooo much!!!!!!!!

Did you write this for me?

Oh yes, we can be dear little olden folks with each other and tell stories on our porch swing!

There will only be my head and then my mechanical body walking for me.

I would love to have wings! Being able to fly is the best super power.

It is... I can't think of anything better, to just be able to move in the air at your own will.

I know. Its so dreamy. Just have to watch out for low flying planes. hee!