The Story of John S Hudson, Pt2

"This now brings me to my stroll down Warmostraat, rather drunk, and lost in thought of the impending treasures I was about to uncover.  Had I never beheld the pristine figure, then I would not have the slightest desire for her.  But fortunate I am not, and the desire rose in me like an angry volcano, only to be quelled by the knowledge that before I wake again, I will have ventured to the most sacred of places.  I laughed at the irony of the many people who passed me by, and took me for but a drunk fool.  They stared and pondered at my vivid grin, and, oh, did they wonder.  I found myself beginning to laugh aloud, further calling attention.  As I rounded the bend, the famous obelisk on the Dam Square greeted me.  Museumplein was but a quick ten minute stroll from here.  I decided to take a seat on the steps of the monument and let some memorable sanity filter back into my consciousness.  The accelerated inebriation troubled me a little; this had to be a night within full retainability of my memory.  I then had the sudden fear that this whole epoch could already be in the vile and detested point of nonrecollection.  What if I had already blacked out?  I looked at my own hands in trembling fear and pinched myself.  Nothing occurred, and I was a fool to even waste the moment in trying.  But how could I make sure of my consciousness?  When a man is in the depth of a serious debauch, how does he even know of his own baneful existence at the moment?  Only by the persistence of time does he eventually rise and find himself in whatever surroundings that became the resting place of the weary and ale-laden head.  Steadfast I rose.  Had I been completely out of it, then the thoughts of the moment would usher my demise, and I would have instantly been whisked to morning, here on the Dam square, with a hangover, and a hundred tourists flocking through like migratory birds.  Luckily, no such occurrence transpired, and I continued my trek, and sooner to destiny, and heaven.  Closer and closer I got, and with more speed did I walk, for as the moment neared, my feet were two rays, carrying me like a beam of light jettisoned from the sun on a collision course with the earth.  The spires of the house now rose into view, situated around a corner, amid the backdrop of a starry night.  I recognized the weather vain, a veiled arrow, with streamers waving behind as if a steady gale blew the metal back.  A single light illuminated the window above and to the left of the door, on the second floor of the house.  As I reached the front, the gate sang as it rotated open.  Upon the porch, the door looked back at me in reprise and I went to knock upon its wooden frame.  Just then one of the cherubic carvings came at me.  Claws and fangs slashed the air in front of my face.  Then the light of the heaven itself shone.  I flailed back and was arrested by one of the very silken white hands of the messengers of God.  As I waited to be brought forth, I noticed it only to be the fine Lady herself yet a true angle pulling me into her own heavenly home.  The door shut and made little sound to echo across the listening night.  ‘Shhhh,’ she softly spoke to my ear and then gave it a small kiss.  I sprang back to reality, casting away the hallucination.  She stepped back and allowed me to gaze upon her feathers.  The plumage was a nightgown, cad in white and woven quite transparent on fabric.  I read every inch of her frame and form, and studied it intently for the passage of the seconds that we stood in the hall.  For my living days will I not forget the image burnt into my memory right then."
 John Hudson brought forth another cigarette and lit it in the same speedy manner he had done with the others.  I tried to picture the Lady standing there, in the white gown, with visible forms underneath.  He sat and smoked, maybe to calm his own nerves, but looked pe rfectly placid, and it was I who jittered and fidgeted.  Then, as I was about to come undone, my friend continued.  "We small talked for about five minutes, poured a drink, and I had but a sip.  This formal banter lasted only as long as both our hormones could be held back.  The floodwaters rose and broke the dam.  She pounced on me as if she stalked me like a cat.  I tried to get a word in but Regina silenced me.  She said there were to be no more words.  I suggested that we go upstairs and once again she cast her mouth upon mine and began to push me back into the living room.
 "Here the lights were dim, like a sunset, and the couch was made up with satin sheets.  She ran her hands up under my shirt and lifted it in one graceful motion, exposing my bare chest to the coolness of the room.  She kissed my skin with a tongue-tickling technique, and I dare say I have never felt anything like it.  Her hands caressed the small of my back.  She raised her head back up and I breathed heavily into her face.  She smiled at me, bringing her body close.  I turned a shade of magenta.  She then pushed me back against the couch and the back of my legs curled inward as I descended.
 "I started to rise and she placed her foot up upon my chest and restrained my ascent; doing so in a manner which afforded me a glance straight up the gown.  She shoved me into the couch, content with my momentous view.  Regina then poured herself over me, allowing the silken fabric of the gown and sheets to encase me in ecstasy.  My head spun with sensation.  She ran her hands along the satin and clasped it tight around my thighs.  My tension was rising and I grabbed her, amid deep and passionate kisses.  She released me from her mouth and I felt the coolness of the air as never before.   Soft streams of warm breath blew upon my lips.  I stared into those eyes and forgot the world.  All the while her husband lay somewhere in another land thinking his wife to be snug and asleep lingered, but I dare say to you, my friend, that I thought of it not."
 Mr.