A/N: Predominantly fiction, with a dash of reality. Comments, suggestions and constructive criticisms are much appreciated. No flames please. Please R&R, Thank You.

I was still hoping, desperately hoping . . . even if it was impossible and the mere thought of it was wretched.

Everything’s still clear in my mind, from his scent, the scent of bare untainted skin, to the murmurs he uttered which sounded barely more than a whisper and even the heavenly feel of his perfectly sculpted nose against my cheek. Prince Charming was he from all discernible angles, his deviousness hidden thoroughly underneath his angelic persona and charisma which had lured me along into those strong arms of his. Those sweet smiles and sympathetic eyes were undoubtedly enticing, alluring and in every sense of the word, magical.

“Shhh, be quiet now . . . they’ll hear us.”

And hearing after his mellifluous voice, and the words that poured out of those lips, which gently brushed against my cheek as he spoke, I just realized the whimpers coming out of my own lips. Our bodies, at such close and unusual proximity it was almost hard to breathe, his hands, now tangled in my dark tresses, and there were words . . . soft-spoken words of passion which I never imagined either of us would ever speak. In the past, I had envisioned him as a saint, incapable of committing a sin even if he were possessed by devils, but today, he’s no more than a man, vulnerable, resilient but will somehow break in time. Then came that long satiated grunt from him, his hands now sluggishly slipping away from my hair, our momentary bliss was over.

Weeks passed, guilt pressed on, infamy sank in . . . what had happened was sickening, revolting, and horrid. But, as time unhurriedly pass by, minutes, hours, days, weeks and finally a month . . . even if the remorse feelings are still at hand . . . I’m still hoping, desperately hoping . . . that one day, I might wake up nestled in his arms once more.

End