Burning Angels

by Jared Axelrod
February 9th, 2006

Her ass was blinking blue when I walked in. That’s how I knew she wanted me. The light was only slightly diffused by her skirt, a new material that changed from black to transparent when her cheeks glowed. The whole skirt was affected, giving me a clear view of her naked thighs. I thought about luming my crotch, but that seemed to be the wrong tact with this girl. Unlike a lot of the girls at the club—and some of the guys now, I noticed–she didn’t have any lumes on her thighs, only on her rear and calves. I always thought that made girls look slutty, anyway. I lit up my forearms green, and I moved closer.

She smiled a shy, pastel smile at me, the colors rippling across her teeth. I had my glow crawl up my shoulders and curl around my neck, only to jet down to my feet. It’s a pre-set routine, sure, but when you ask a girl to dance, it’s best to keep in simple. I mean, I didn’t even know her yet. I only just started to go through her sexual history, for cryin’ out loud.

Her toenails strobed and her smile got brighter. We moved to the dance floor, her fingertips glowing blue. I lit up my fingernails and handspirals, a charged the lightning for my forearms. Her sex-hist checked clean, and I could see by the dancing lights on her temple that said mine did too. She was a angel, this girl. And then she became one, glowing holographic wings and neon halo spreading bright. My lighting was on, now, and was cracking in time with the dj. She rubbing her cheek against my arm, the sparks jumping in out of her her pink-lumed hair. Her network nudged mine—forward, but I like that in a girl—and I let her in. Her probes caressed my net, neurons firing as my hair intensity gained. I knew everything about her, and her eyes rolled backing into orange-and-red-strobing neurons as she savored an old memory of mine. I felt the phantom nuzzle of her last boyfriend against my chest, and felt my assured confidence as a lover enhance my arousal. I let my crotch glow—nothing too flashy, just so she’d notice—and she moaned quietly at it’s sight, orgasmic lumes waving across her cheeks. She clawed at my back, her fingertips leaving strobing tracking of green and blue. We kissed and the intensity of the glow of both our faces forced me to shut my eyes.

She came like fireworks, like napalm, like holy flames. Our light incinerated us both.

For all its 8 minutes, one of the best relationships I ever had. When we broke up, I was crushed, but I understood the relationship had run its course. After crying green-glowing tears in the ladies’ room for a few minutes, I adjusted my dress, re-set my eye blinkers, and went back into the club.

There was a guy at the bar who had purple leopard spots that cascaded down his back like rain. That’s how I knew he wanted me.