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Fantasy/tojade
                                     The Reaver
                                    To Jade Eyes
                      The winged, obsidian giant kneeled outside the house, gazing
                 in  through the uncovered window.  His long, flowing hair,  white
                 as new fallen snow, caught the soft light of the moon.  The enor-
                 mous wings, the color of his hair veined with streaks of  silver,
                 were  folded close along his well-muscled back.  His  hands  were
                 guantleted  in  leather,  fingerless gloves.   The  light  coming
                 through the window from inside the house glinted off of the sharp
                 metal spikes that lined the knuckles.  His feet were shod in much
                 the  same  way  with soft leather boots,  spiked  with  the  same
                 strange gleaming black metal.  Other than these, his only  attire
                 was  a  simple loincloth held around his waist by a  wide,  thick
                 leather  belt.   From  this  belt  hung  a  large  black   sword,
                 sheathed  in a scabbard of gleaming, emerald, green  scaled  hide
                 adorned with a row of five unknown gemstones.  His eyes were  the
                 eyes  of a creature of darkness.  The dark red irises were  wide,
                 allowing  none  of the white surrounding them to  be  seen.   The
                                pupils were oblong, almost cat-like.
                      He  stared  intently through the window,  content  that  the
                 smaller creatures within could not see him.  He was careful  that
                 none  of  the  light  from within fell  directly  upon  him.   He
                 remained motionless, drawing no attention.  His breath was steady
                 and  controlled.   He  made no sound as he  watched.   His  large
                 pointed  ears  were  turned  slightly toward  the  glass  and  he
                 listened  carefully  as he studied the  creatures  playing  games
                                          inside the room.
                      He  wondered at the music that fell upon his ears.   It  was
                 slightly odd, like nothing he had heard before.  It was a mixture
                 of  sounds.  He could make out the twangs of plucked strings,  of
                 different  thicknesses and tensions.  He heard the fingertips  of
                 the  instrumentalist clamp and slide across them.  He  heard  the
                 steady pounding of sticks on stretched skins.  He could make  out
                 the  subtle click as a stick once contacted the edge of  the  in-
                 strument.  Along with these obsolete, almost primal, sounds  came
                 the  steady influence of frequency controlled, perfectly  pitched
                 notes.   The  music  didn't make sense to him,  yet  it  was  not
                 against  his liking, merely different from that to which  he  was
                                      once used to listening.
                      As  the music flowed through his body, his eyes took in  the
                 scene  unraveling  before him.  `Mating  ritual?'  he  questioned
                 himself.  Within the room, he could make out two males and  three
                 females.   `Humans,'  his mind recalled.  `Men  and  women....woe
                 men...the  woe of men,' he laughed within himself.   Some  things
                 were  the same in all the dimensions.  `The females run the  show
                 and let the males think they do...'  Actually, each of the  sexes
                 appeared  to  be  taking  an equal part  in  the  display.   They
                 appeared  to  be  taking turns feeding  themselves  with  various
                 fruits  and other foods placed between each other's  legs.   They
                 went slowly, spending more time licking each other's bodies  than
                 gorging  themselves.   Much of the repast seemed to be  going  to
                 waste.  Whatever it was they were doing, it interested the  giant
                 greatly.   He suddenly became excited at the prospect of  joining
                                               them.
                      `Wonder how upset they'd be if I just walked in on them?' he
                 thought  to himself, jokingly.  He knew that this planet was  not
                 yet aware of the dimensions that surrounded it.  He thought  back
                 quickly  to  the  books they had given him to  study  before  his
                 exile.  After a few moments, he suddenly smiled as he  remembered
                 one  of  his  favorite characters from  the  literature  of  this
                 planet.

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   He moved slowly into the yard, careful not  to  disturb
                 anything.   When he was satisfied that his movement had not  been
                 noticed, he bowed his head in concentration.  A thick fog  slowly
                 condensed upon his body, conforming itself to his vast form.  The
                 fog slowly changed, reshaping itself, becoming smaller,  churning
                                heavily.  Within minutes it abated.
                      "Shit!" one of the men exclaimed as he stood and ducked into
                 the  hallway,  followed closely by the others.  "Who in  hell  is
                                               that?"
                      One of the women quickly throws a thin robe around her  body
                 and  steps over to the door.  Opening it carefully, she looks  at
                 the stranger standing before her.  She never speaks a word.   She
                 lets  her  eyes frame the question that the  stranger  knows  she
                 wishes  to ask.  She looks at the man expectantly,  studying  his
                                        features, his body.
                      He  is tall, well over six feet, and somewhat thin.   He  is
                 handsome,  yet in a rugged sort of way.  His face is the face  of
                 one who enjoys the outdoors.  His skin is the ruddy color of  one
                 who has spent his life mostly outside.  He wears a  short-sleeved
                 cotton   shirt.   His  muscled  arms  sprout  from  wide,   solid
                 shoulders.  His pants are made of faded blue denim.  The knees of
                 which  are worn through in spots.  On his feet are a pair of  old
                 leather  hiking boots.  The boots appeared to be well  worn,  the
                 seams  at the soles split at a few places.  They were stained  by
                 the dust of many a road.  In his hands he held a six-pack of beer
                 and a bottle of wine.  Her eyes once more directed themselves  to
                 the  stranger's pants.  `Yes,' she thought to herself, `They  are
                 well-filled.'   She once more looked into the man's eyes,  asking
                                       the unspoken question.
                      "I'm  new around here and I was pretty bored.  I heard  your
                 party  and  decided  to see if you could stand  to  be  a  little
                 hospitable to a  man that's trying to fight his way  out  of  the
                 depths  of  depression."   He  smiled  as  he  said  the   words,
                 indicating  that  he was in no way serious, about  anything.   He
                       smiled and looked at the woman, waiting for her reply.
                      He looked at her intently, letting his gaze travel from  her
                 feet  upward.   Her  legs  were firm and  sexy,  exposed  by  the
                 briefness  of her robe.  She seemed to be well curved, adding  to
                 his  excitement.   He looked into her face.   His  eyes  suddenly
                                         locked with hers.
                      Her  eyes, beautiful, intelligent eyes, bore into  his  own.
                 He could lose himself in those eyes.  Indeed, he had already felt
                 the  danger  of falling into them.  The mirrors of her  soul,  he
                 liked  what he saw.  Calculating eyes, eyes that knew  what  they
                 wanted and had the will to take it.  Intelligent eyes, eyes  that
                 looked  beyond  the  surface, to strip  away  illusions,  to  see
                 reality.  Fearless eyes, eyes that quickly determined what  could
                 or  could  not threaten.  Warm eyes, eyes full of  life  and  the
                  desire to live it to its fullest.  Beautiful eyes, eyes of jade.
                      "What's  your name?" she asked, becoming interested  in  the
                                    strange man at her doorstep.
                      The  man  thought quickly. `The dark  man...the  clown...the
                 walking  dude...no  wait,  that's  it.'   "Randall,"  he  replied,
                        "Randall Flagg.  But my friends call me The Reaver."to More Fantasy Sex Stories and Sexual Fantasies
                                                  
                                                  
                                                  
                                                  
                                                  
                                                  
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