Date: Mon, 06 Oct 2003 19:56:34 -0700
From: Cirrus Kain <stoneclaw@hotmail.com>
Subject: Clinging To Vapors

Title: Clinging To Vapors  (1/1)
Author: Cirrus Kain
Pairing: Amy Lee/Original Character
Rating: R (Anyone who tells you otherwise is a prude.)
Disclaimers: Apply the usual.  If I knew Evanescence would I be wasting my
time writing porn?  I don't think so.
Feedback: stoneclaw@hotmail.com

	I met her inside a deserted church as the bells tolled midnight.  Anyone at
least in some contact with the MTV generations would have known her on
sight.  I certainly did.  She was dolled up in a way that always reminded me
of Queen Amidala, looking like she had just come from a show.  Her thick
makeup was running.  She'd been crying.  Without hesitation I slid into the
front pew across the aisle from her.  She glanced over at me.

	"Hey Amy," I said amiably.  She looked taken aback, whether because I
recognized her or because I greeted her so intimately, I didn't know.  I
could only offer a smile and a shrug.

	We sat in silence for a few moments and I took in the opulent splendor of
the place.  Gold, satin, rich polished wood and stained glass, shimmering
like specters in the light of candles desperate people had lit hoping that a
bit of burning wick might satisfy Barry's creditors, or cure Shawnna's
ovarian cancer.  Were it not for the acoustics of churches making it
impossible to keep anything to one's self, I would have scoffed at the idea.
  I had no knowledge of the spiritual commitment possessed by my current
companion however, and out of respect remained quiet.  She spoke first this
time.

	"What brought you here tonight?"

	I decided to be honest.  "Warmer in here than out there.  You?"

	Her breath hitched before she answered.  "Moral dilemma."

	I didn't pry, but as it turned out, I didn't need to.  I shrugged off my
jacket and leaned back on the bench, hands behind my head, boots up on the
rail in front, a perfectly natural pose for me.  I was just getting
comfortable.  But my baggy clothes stretched tight over my frame and it
wasn't long before I noticed I was attracting more than the usual amount of
attention from Amy, whose eyes darted over my body's length every few
seconds even as she seemed to be trying very hard not to let them.  This was
not exactly a position I found myself in often to be sure.  Several thoughts
entered my head at once, but one stood out among them, my most certain plan
of action.  I got up, caught her eye, and boldly nodded my head in the
direction in which she was to follow me, and I led her to the back of the
room where I ducked inside the empty confessional.  She entered beside me,
and I just hoped I'd been reading her right.

	Placing a hand on her shoulder, my lips found hers swiftly in the dark.  My
ribs hurt from the pounding of the organ within them.  My head swam.  My
body tensed and prepared for the repercussions I might have just earned
myself.  She did nothing however, she was stiff too, but not unresponsive.
And when I took a chance and leaned closer, she moaned softly into my mouth.
  That was the confirmation I was looking for, and I could see the entire
scene in my head; it was common knowledge that Amy and Ben were fairly
religious people, though thankfully their music was not as abrasive to an
atheist like me as bands like Creed or, back in the day, Jars of Clay, my
mortal enemies.  I saw her confessing her thoughts to him, her bandmate and
closest friend, and the disgust spreading across his face.  I heard the
shouting match that followed.  And she had come here, looking for some peace
for her troubled mind.  I broke our kiss and moved my hand to her breast.

	"What are you doing?" she panted.

	"Bringing you to life," I told her without a beat.

	She arched to my touch.  I latched my mouth on to her neck and sucked,
though the bitter taste of foundations and powders obscured the sweetness of
her skin.  She tore at her own dress, the straps on her shoulders, the
layers of flowing skirts, allowing me access to her pale globes and rosy
nipples.  They were stiff when I touched them and stiffened further when I
lowered my tongue to them.  My fingers socked into a moist grotto slicker
than any I had ever felt.  Her pussy was a thing of velvet beauty, so much
so that I found I was moaning in spite of the fact that I was not being
touched.  Amy ran her long fingers through my hair, pulling me closer to her
chest, and finally I lay my head there motionless and listened to the
heaving of her breath.  Aside from our panting and the wet sounds of my
pistoning inside her, the air was still around us.

	When she came she choked, and I knew she was crying.  As I pulled off her,
out of her, and slumped dazed against the confessional wall, I was vaguely
aware of what would come next.

	So when I heard the hurried rustle of her costume and the flutter of the
curtain, I wasn't surprised at all.


Thank you for your consideration.

-Cirrus Kain