Note by the author: I wrote this story for a friend of mine for her birthday which was on Friday. She's a real gorewhore - to say the least. This is the first part I just translated from German into English. Yes, usually I write straight in English, but she's not very good at it so I obliged and did it the other way round. 1)
Her reply was like: "OMG, soooo AWWWWW....giiiiiiive meeee mooooorrrrrreeeee!!!"
So I finished the now more lenghty story last night. Still translating though - but might be able to post the "rest" later. Enjoy!

Oh, by the way: To understand the term "sanctuary"...Yvonne has a special room in her house that is totally dedicated to Martin - a sacred place so to speak.




The gravel sputters up high when the tyres’ tread angrily bites into the loose ground and the pressure of the brakes makes the silvery grey car finally stop. The door opens with an energetic thud and the blonde, short haired female driver nearly jumps outside. The last shreds of a Depeche Mode song waver through the air and then – with a swift click of the remote – the music instantly dies and the central locking system responds shortly after smashing the door shut.

Yvonne is so engrossed in thoughts, her disappointment and anger, that she doesn’t recognize the tiny, white feather sticking between the door seal and frame. A pale, white dressed man cowers on the still heated bonnet and wipes away the sweat from his temples.

The woman misses all this as she’s already unlocking the front door and disappears into the hallway. The door slams straight into the blond curly haired man’s face. With a silent sigh he shakes his head and...glides straight through the glass as if it was non existent.

Yvonne meanwhile rummages in the kitchen and fills the kettle with water. The clock flips over to 10.31 pm. Overtime again! The house remains quiet. She knows her husband being at a union’s meeting and her daughter sleeps at a friend’s in the neighbourhood. It’s the autumn holiday. It could be so nice and relaxing! Still deep in thoughts she reaches for the tea bags. Almost mechanically she opens and closes the lid of the metal container – her trained fingers fetching a bag. She’s done it for a million times – automatically – without thinking.

The blonde curly male now sits on one of the chairs – after he moved the red cushin into a proper position. He knows she will take her seat next to the window – as usual. For a short moment. Nothing will keeping her there for long and she will jump up and leave the room.

The water starts boiling and after Yvonne took a hasty sip from the strong, steamy brew she indeed gets hastily up and dashes towards the living room. It doesn’t make much sense to fire the oven now. She’s tired to the bone. Tomorrow’s her birthday. Another year passed by.

After adjusting the doily on the dining table and placing the correctly folded plaid on the coral colourd couch she enters the wooden stairs up to the next floor. Tired and unenthusiastically she takes step by step and then turns left fort he bathroom. The daily ritual. The light face behind her in the mirror shows a tiny smile, but she doesn’t recognize it at all.

When Yvonne finally slips under her hollow fibre duvet the blonde man takes his place at the foot of the not used half of the bed, sitting down with a low rustle. She turns around again and closes her eyes. Sleep doesn’t want to come though. Meanwhile the strange man pulls at a white strap he’s wearing across his chest and a even whiter guitar becomes visible. Now, that the moonlight suddenly pours through the window, unhindered by clouds, the skin of the stranger glimmers magically. His slim, trained torso is bare – aside the guitar strap and a pair of silvery braces – hold a wide, white pair of pants. It loosely fits around his small hips. He’s barefooted – well shaped feet and toes...with silver nail varnish. Same goes for his fingernails. They glisten when he places his fingers onto the strings, starting to pluck a low, soothing melody. Yvonne lolls a little and grunts contently – as if her subconscious detected the sounds. Well, there’s nobody and there isn’t anything to listen to, right?

When Yvonne still tosses and turns under the sheets the apparition begins to sing. His voice resembles so much the velvet you brush softly with your hand.

I want somebody to share
Share the rest of my life
Share my innermost thoughts
Know my intimate details
Someone who’ll stand by my side
And give me support
And in return
She’ll get my support
She will listen to me
When I want to speak
About the world we live in
And life in general
Though my views may be wrong
They may even be perverted
Shell hear me out
And won’t easily be converted
To my way of thinking
In fact she’ll often disagree
But at the end of it all
She will understand me
Aaaahhhhh....

I want somebody who cares
For me passionately
With every thought and
With every breath
Someone who’ll help me see things
In a different light
All the things I detest
I will almost like
I don’t want to be tied
To anyone’s strings
I’m carefully trying to steer clear of
Those things
But when I’m asleep
I want somebody
Who will put their arms around me
And kiss me tenderly
Though things like this
Make me sick
In a case like this
I’ll get away with it
Aaaahhhhh....


With a big sigh Yvonne sits up in her bed.

„That’s it again! Now I start to hear him again in my doze! Vonni, you’re ready for calling the funny farm!“

The blonde curly man lets his instrument sink and scratches his chin. Actually he wanted to achieve the complete opposite and sing her to sleep, having sweet dreams. The woman in the bed rubs her eyes now and freezes in her motions. Her pupils are wide open now and the colour fades from her face.

„Can you see me, Yvonne?“
His voice now is clearly audible and the addressed person flinches. A view to the alarm on her night stand tells him it’s two minutes past midnight.
„Oh yes, you can also hear me. Happy Birthday, Yvonne!“

Yvonne opens her mouth and closes it again – without any sound. She starts to tremble slightly and clings her fingers into the sheets. Blinking doesn’t help – the vision keeps sitting on the bed next to her and smiles.

„M...Mar...Martin?!“
The man wags his head.
„I’m your guardian angel. Usually you won’t get a glimpse of me but this is a special night – your birth night, when I was allocated to you.“
„But...?“
„I always take the shape that’s closest to your heart.“
He musters her sternly for a moment.
„As we both can see it’s not your husband at the moment. Don’t feel bad about it. It’s alright. Just call me Martin.“

„Could you turn around, please?“
The angel bursts into laughter.
„Sure can!“
The sheets rustle and the white dressed figure shows Yvonne his backside. Between the shoulder blades and the braces two respectable wings stick out – neatly folded. They spread now with an odd swishing sound – loads of tiny down feathers twirling around in the air.

„Happy now?“
He turns around, with a boyish grin on his face.
„Even better than those fluffy things in your sanctuary, ay?“
Then a reasonable sneeze shakes him.
„The only bad thing about it: I’m allergic! Well, you wanted them – so you got them.“

He unstraps the guitar and leans it against the next wall. Yvonne still rolls her eyes and pinches her arm. The apparition stays – as his guffaw.

„You’re so mean!“
„OK, I’ll try to be good, but your expression is so...!“
He bursts into a fit of giggles again. Yvonne grabs her pillow and throws it at the man who easily catches it.

„Wow!“
„Hey, I’m really here – you better believe it!“

The still perplexed woman starts slowly crawling towards him. She gets up and approaches him, stretching out her right hand. The light figure stays very calmly at his spot and faces her with his green eyes. Yes, it’s exactly Martin’s eye colour. Even those spots in the irises are where they’re supposed to be. Cautiously her fingers wander over the smooth skin of his cheek. She detects the arch of the jugal bone and traces down to the full, expressive lips. Crawlies make it along her spine. He feels so real!

„I’m real for you tonight, Yvonne.“
„Reading my mind – I try to believe it!“
She hesitates a little and then presses her lips onto his. He doesn’t avoid her – on the contrary. His arms close around her waist and he pulls her closer. She breaks the kiss shortly to gather some air.

„You...you..?“
„Yes, I do everything you want me to – everything you desire, yearn for – everything you need.“
„Oh God!“
„Shush, he’s not responsible for this! For the moment he’s blind and deaf – and that’s for the better I suppose!“
Now it’s Yvonne with a smug grin on her face.
„Well, well...!“

She brushes the braces down his shoulders and with a little jerk the trousers also hit the carpet. There he stands now - in all his glory. A slight blush creeps over her cheeks and the angel winks at her.

„No underwear – just like you wished for.“

The next moment he grabs her, lifts her up and carries her back to the bed. Carefully he lets her down on the mattress and pulls her sleephirt over her head. It disappears somewhere on the floor, next to the bed. After that he bends over her and holds her view.
„Do you really want this, Yvonne?“
„I thought you’d know my mind?“
„Certainly, but you can change your opinion any time.“
„No, I want you!“
„You want Martin. I was afraid so. This is going to be a tough night...!“

His velvety lips trail down her neck while his hands already caress her breasts. She silently moans and digs her fingers into the soft flesh of his hips.

„Hey, I thought it’s my turn to seduce you?“
He can’t go on with another sentence as Yvonne takes the chance to suddenly turn him over onto his back.
„Little change in plans!“
The angel whimpers shortly when he senses her left hand between his legs. Then he closes his eyes.
„OK, OK – it’s your birthday!“

There he’s spread in front of her and she can feel and smell him. His manhood already stirs after her first, yearning touch, but like usual she saves the best for last.

With trembling fingers and lips – shivering with lust and want – she explores his delicate body. Those little nipples stiffen under her soft fingertips. The rib cage heaves up and down with increasing breaths. She signals him to sit up and he follows the light pressure of her hands. Her skilled fingers wander over his shoulders, between the scapulae. The wings still irritate her a little. Eventually she fondles smoothly along the gap between them. Some kind of purr escapes the man in her arms, like the one of a content cat.

„Don’t tell me it turns you on?“
The blonde curls bob with the nod of his head and when Yvonne can look into his face again she recognizes the heat that’s spread over his cheeks. There’s an excited glistening in his now dark eyes. When she kisse him his lips greedily close around hers and suck her into an electrifying connection. Their tongues meet and seem to melt into a unity. Finally she senses his teeth.

„Come on, ride me! I’m ready to explode soon!“

He pants, lifts her pelvis and both entangle each other with their legs. She’s so horny and wet already that she effortlessly slips over his now rock hard and throbbing member – taking it all in. As soon as she’s ready he starts with slow, rhythmic thrusts – meeting every downward move of hers. She feels his hands on her back, his longing lips at her neck. The hot breath, his lustful moans – her own excited ones. She can’t stay quiet now, has to yell out what’s been bottled up and buried deep down in herself. When she climaxes she nearly faints. The waves clash over her, carry her away. Oh yes, he comes as well – just shortly after her – dragged in by her lust. In recurring spasms he shoots his hot juices into her. She don’t want to let go when both of them lie on each other, in a struggle for breath and consciousness, heavily gasping for air.

When Yvonne wakes up around eight the next morning she warily looks around. The bed next to her is untouched. Everything in the room looks as usual.

„Christ, what a naughty dream again! And for once I can remember every single detail!“
She lolls a little longer in the sheets and then decides to get up. A nice, relaxed birthday breakfast, oh yes! And before a wonderful wellness bath!

When she moves away the blanket and slips her red nightshirt over her shoulders her eyes grow big. At her right inner thigh, nearly over her private parts, sticks something. It’s a middle sized, white-silvery, fluffy feather.

*** 1)

It’s a week now since Yvonne’s birthday. The every day hazzles quickly got hold on her again, yet something changed. The shiny, blissfully sparks in her eyes fade more and more, like the emotions and memories. The yearning for closeness and human touch is stronger than ever.

Every night – in the silent moments in her sanctuary – she smoothes over the silvery shimmering feather and enjoys the goosebumps running over her waiting skin. In this little span of time she feels him again very close, very deep inside her. She can smell him, taste him and wants to loose herself in him. Still she’s not fully sure if it’s really happening to her. She’s not so lucky – not her! The closest she ever got to Martin - and again her pulse races – the closest was that night at the hotel, when he finally gave her his autograph. Was it? His indescribable, erotic scent, mingled with his cologne, still linger in her olfactoric senses. She nearly fell over her own feet.
With another sigh she opens her laptop. She doesn’t feel like chatting away in those wellknown forums. The emails are quickly checked. One last answer to write. She stares at the reply box and sees the cursor blinking behind the last word she typed. Her thoughts try to focus on another sentence. When she looks straight at the monitor again there’s a new line of words visible.

Yvonne, I can’t forget about that night as well.

The blonde haired woman flinches but takes all her courage and writes instinctively.

„I need you! Can’t you become visible again?“

I’m not allowed, my queen of hearts!

„You could though?“

For a moment there’s nothing happening on the screen. Then the mouse cursor flickers again.

That’s not so easy, but...yes.

„You don’t want to, why not admit it?!“

Yvonne, we shouldn’t have this conversation anyway.

„Come back to me, please!“

Again it takes a while and Yvonne is close to angrily shut down the notebook computer.

I’m sorry. Well, I’m always around. Have a little patience and trust me.

There’s no more reply to her further question.

The next days pass by and Yvonne gives in to her fate – what other option did she have? Today’s shift stretches again and she’s not surprised to find the clock way after 8pm.

„Yvonne, we have an emergency case! Could you please stay the night? Manu called in sick just minutes ago. We do not have any back up!“
„Your’re joking, right?!“
The senior nursing officer sighs and wipes away some sweat from her brows.
„I’m really sorry!“

Yvonne returns to the ward’s office to call her husband. He’s not really amused but consoles her a little bit. After finishing the paper works she walks into the kitchen to brew herself a pot of strong tea. At least no complicated cases in the rooms she has to check. It’s not going to be much work, but staying awake won’t be easy, being on her own.

After the next check round around 11pm all patients rest in a comfortable darkness. She enters the storage and utility room to clean up a little bit. With a tissue she starts to rub at the mirror over the bassin. Wanting to dispose it into the bin she detects the pair of green eyes behind her – in the reflecting square.

„There you are!“

Quickly she turns around and there he stands – in his white, wide trousers with the silver braces – and naked chest. The blonde curls appear a bit ruffled and his face seems to show a few more wrinkles. His dazzling smile for sure is smooth like nothing else.

Yvonne’s beeper goes off this very moment and she hastily checks the display.

„Dear Vonni, I’m going to your office now. Take your 30 minutes break. I’ll text you again. Silke.“

„You’re responsible for this, ay?“
„If it’s so?“
The blonde woman shakes her head in disbelief and turns serious.
„We have half an hour?“
The angel nods and his fingers gently run along her facial contours.
„We shouldn’t waste another second then. I know where we could go.“
„Yeah, the infamous day bed.“
„Martin!!“
The blonde curly man snickers now and nudges her.
„Now, now!“

„Shush, tone down!“
The sweatty angel covers Yvonne’s mouth quickly with his lips while his pelvis rhythmically moves up and down. The muscles of his well shaped glutes contract with every thrust he makes. Then the body beneath him starts shaking and twitching. With two or three more moves he also gives into his climax and tries to suppress his lustful moans – with not much success.

After both of them gathered some breath Yvonne smoothes a damp strand hair back from Martin’s glowing face. The contentment and satiation is very visible in both of their eyes. Yet there’s also a gloomy trace in them.

„Just five minutes left.“
She has the ugly, sterile, white clock at the wall in sight. The second hand busily hurries from mark to mark.

He kisses her passionately again and then adjusts his wings. Yvonne’s eyes keep stuck at a single, black feather.

„What’s that?!“

He glances in her direction and the colour slightly leaves his complexion. She bends over and yanks the feather swiftly out off the bunch of others – eying it suspiciously. When she looks up again there’s a new pitch black feather at exactly the place it was before.

„That’s the price I have to pay.“
„Pardon?! Are...are there...going to be more?“
„Yes. Every time I crave for you.“
Yvonne slaps her hands against her mouth and starts shaking. He pulls her into his strong arms at once.
„Don’t think about it, my love.“
His eyes can’t hide his sadness any longer. This moment her pager chimes again and the with the nervewrecking sound the contours of the angel start to blur in front of her eyes. She blinks and rubs her lids. When she’s got a clear sight again, he’s gone.

***
The roll doesn’t really taste well. Yvonne’s thoughts still circle around Martin. Tired as she is she closes her eyes for a moment. It’s way too bright outside, but her body screams for some decent sleep. Luckily she’s two free days ahead. Deep in thoughts she moves the plate with the remains of her breakfast away and musters her husband. He turns another page of the morning paper and seems mentally ready for work. They already waved their little daughter bye bye for school an hour earlier. The colourful badge on his black work trousers somehow burns in her eyes today and she feels a sore conscience.

Hey, I cheat on my hubby with an angel! How wierd is that supposed to be?!

„Sweetheart, I have to dash! Lay down and sleep. You look pityful!“

He kisses her heartily on her cheek and lets the mobile, that still rests on the counter, slip into his pocket. A little later she can hear the motor of his white company car howl and then he’s already out off sight.

It’s quiet in the house, but Yvonne can’t come down. She crawls kinda into the bedroom. After darkening the windows she tries to sleep, but her inner chronograph counts at a different beat.

A light silhouette becomes visible on the window sill – very weak. It completely escapes the overly tired woman in the pillows. She only senses a slight rush of air and a soft murmur. Deeper and deeper she falls – muscle after muscle relax – and finally she rests there, soundly asleep. A little smile sets down on her lips.

The now fully visible angel gets up from the bed, levitates a bit and then rests again on the window ledge. His forms fade bit by bit till the darkness of the room seems to have inhaled the last glistening molekules.

Yvonne wakes up in the late afternoon. She feels miraculously refreshed. Entering the hallway she sees her little one sitting at her desk, fighting with her daily homework. There’s a test, an essay, ahead the next day. As usual the door to her teenage room stands wide open and the CD-player doodles in the background. She listens to ‚Precious’.

Playing The Angel! Martin, you’re fooling with me again?

She steps into the room and runs her fingers softly over the long, blonde hair of her girl.

„Well, my princess – everything smooth?“
„Sure, mom.“
„Do you already know the topic for tomorrow?“
„We can choose from two. Finally it’s drawn by lot.“
„Ah! Something new. Well? Now don’t you let me worm it out off you again, sweety!“
„Angels or elfs, maybe hobbits. We deal with fairytales at the moment, did you forget? Why do I have to read aloud every evening??“

Yvonne slaps her own forehead. That’s not really happening, isn’t it? She already has a clue which topic her daughter might pick.
„I’m still groggy from night shift! Did you feed the rabbits and cleaned their stable?“
„Errrr...they are fed. I have to exchange the straw later.“
„Before dinner, my dear! I don’t take a joke on that, little missy!“

The girl rolls her eyes and smirks.
„Oh, and stop chewing your pencil, it’s disgusting!“

***
The following day passes by without any memorable moments. Yvonne thinks about Martin with lots of intensity, yet he doesn’t give her a damn spark of a hint that he’s around. She can beg, bribe or threat him as much as she wants. Anything the blonde woman tries – no sign, not even a tiny down feather.

Damn! Hopefully he didn’t get into any trouble because of me!

She’s got no clue, what there might be going on. Who could have any experience when heavenly creatures were involved? As much as you stumble over them?

„Vonni, no more sarcasm! You will burn in hell anyway if you go on like that!“
With some reasonable elan she closes the lid of the washing maschine and carries the freshly filled basket outside onto the patio. The clotheshorse is already waiting for new supply. Fetching the next, damp garment she freezes shortly. It’s her ‚Mr. Feathers’ t-shirt.

„Martin, don’t you overexaggerate a little now?“
„Why is that?“

She cringes in shock and lets the clamps slip out off her hand. A stark naked man lolls on one of the wooden deck chairs.

„Geez, do you have to cause me a sudden heart attack?!“
„Not on your profile.“
He grins at her boyishly.
„Now let the bleeding laundry be laundry and come over here!“

He doesn’t have to beg twice and with his nimble fingers Martin literally tears off her t-shirt and leggins.

„Sweet Lord, Martin! What’s gotten into you today?!“
„If I’m going to sin then I want it to be properly done!“
„Angels can sin?“
„Let the topic rest! Do you want me or not?“
„If anybody should see us? My hubby will be back from work soon and my daughter won’t stay at the swim training forever!“
„It’s all taken care of. Now relax!“

His hands give away his wanting. She feels them all over her body and a burst of electricity pulses through her system. The endorphins must create bubbles in her bloodstream. When his head disappears between her thighs she can’t hold back a loud gasp. It’s nearly more than she can take. His tongue swirls it's way to her inner sanctum, the slim, expert fingers join in. It doesn’t take long and she’s beyond good and bad.

Am I really allowed to experience so much lust? Is it alright?

„Shut off your head, Yvonne! Let yourself go – I’ll catch your fall!“

It’s like she could hear the whirring of his wings around her. Perhaps it’s just her racing pulse – the blood that rushes through her body. Oh yes, sex with him is like a rush! She snuggles closer to his body and rests her face in the muscular crook of his neck. His hands open her legs and his very erect hardness conquers her on the way inside. It feels so good, so right – yet at the same time she can’t shake free from the numb feeling that there’s a price to pay for everything.

The fever tree wood of the lounge chair creaks and shakes under the weight and the motions. Finally his body falls spent onto hers and after a while they calmed down a little.

„It’s been a while since I climaxed that frequently! Wow!“
„About time, right?“
„Martin!! You’re a libertine!“
„Are you giving me the boot now?“
„Should I?“

The blonde curly man wipes some drops of sweat form his face, turning very serious and sombre all of a sudden.

„No, forget about it. There are others already signed for the deal.“

He loosens her arms that are still around his neck and cautiously gets up. Yvonne escapes a little yell – this time not fuelled by ecstasy. Nearly a third of his wings is exchanged by coal-black feathers. A cold shiver creeps down her spine.

„Oh my god! What’s happening to you?!“
„You don’t want to know, Yvonne. Honestly.“
„Tell me! It’s all my fault, is it?“
„Fault isn't the right term. You didn’t do anything wrong.“
„Yes, I’m unfaithful to my husband – with you!“
„If I wouldn’t have become visible – would you have fallen for me?“
„I did it again and again – in my mind! You know my dirty thoughts!“
„What about your heart?“

Yvonne senses hot tears trickling down her cheeks. It’s just not fair!

„What do these friggin black feathers mean, Martin?“
The angel sighs and gently dries the tears on her face.
„When my wings turn completely black...then I will loose my immortal soul.“

***
Yvonne rummages eagerly in her photo collection. Pictures over pictues. Depeche Mode in all imaginable situations. Eventually she finds what she was looking for. Two pictures. On the first you can see Martin – dressed all in white. There’s a little, fluffy wing in the same colour sitting on the shoulder of his t-shirt. A loose, glitzy belt with the letters ‚EXCITER’ dangles around his hips.
In her other hand there’s a pic that was shot a few years later. Martin all in black – two dark wings fixed to the back of his shirt.

„I think, my sick brain is playing tricks on me! I’m loosing my sanity!“

Nonetheless she takes the photographs and puts then neathly onto her tiny desk in her sanctuary – next to the white and black feathers she gathered from him. They stick securely in a ball of plasticine. Sometimes it’s a big asset to have a kid in the house.

The week moves on and again she’s waiting for her extraordinary lover. No signs.

„He doesn’t want to loose his soul – it’s understandable.“
She sighs from the bottom of her heart.
„I understand, Martin, but I miss you to bits!“

Another week slips through her fingers and Yvonne suffers silently. It’s the night of October, 31st. She’s got the house all on her own as her man is away for advanced training and her daughter attends a Helloween party with an overnighter. The late shift was a killer again and now she’s tired and passes the illuminated, huge orange pumpkin that grins at her from a short distance. Music wavers over from the neighbours, some laughter. She wags her head. The invitation sticks at her pin board in the kitchen.

After preparing her usual tea she trots into the living room. The remain of the log in the oven is still glowing so she adds two further, small ones and waits till the flames grow and eagerly nibble at the fresh food. When she turns around she sees Martin sitting on the couch.

„At last! I so much yearned for you!“
„I know, Yvonne.“
She glides quickly next to him onto the sofa and he closes his arms around her firmly.
„Make love to me like you never did before, Martin!“
The angel tenderly caresses her cheeks.
„I will.“
His beautiful, green eyes darken considerably.
„It’s going to be the last time.“
She flinches back, the consternation clearly visible in her features. A look at his wings lets her heart miss a beat. Only a very few white feathers are left.
„No, that’s impossible! Can’t we stop or reverse it?!“
„Can you take back love? Could you ban Martin out off your thoughts, out off your heart and soul?“
She hides her face in her hands and sobs heavily. His fingers run soothingly through her hair.
„Let’s go into your sanctuary.“

His touches never have been that intense. It’s like his whole body is in a permanent flow – so very smooth in it’s motion. Over and over again he takes her with him on his wings and she can feel his own pain now. He’s giving himself totally because afterwards there won’t be anything left – nothing would be as it was before. Once again she rides him, endulges in the power of his groin and with a last, raw yell she sinks down onto his sweatty chest.

„I’m always with you. So it was, so it will be.“

His words trail slowly off. She’s fallen into a deep slumber. That’s why she doesn’t see how the last feathers turn into jetblack. The blonde curly man gets up from the mattress, a melancholic, sad expression on his face, and walks to the desk.

When Yvonne opens her eyes, it’s already bright day. She feels it – something changed – and she can’t change it back. With a certain amount of horror she realizes that she’s covered with several tiny, black down feathers. No, the little pair of wings still stick to the wall above, next to a picture. She jumps out off bed and and feels drawn to her desk, like from a magnet. Next to the two photos there’s a third one now. It’s from the recent tour and shows Martin in his silvery vest and pants – the skin of his chest and arms generously covered with glitter – like stardust.
There’s something written on the note pad:

„Angels come in many different shapes, sizes and forms and if you open your eyes they're always there.“

***

THE END.

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1

2010.11.06. 00:07 Useless-girl Oh god........ I had tears in my eyes at the end! It is a wonderful b-day gift to your friend, and I'm sure she loves it to bits! (Or at least I'd do so if I was her. :D) I really loved this angel-wing thing too! The white ones turining into black and "Martin" losing his immortal soul... Very moving! It seems that not every sin is bad, but there are situations when this doesn't count and the consequences are fatal... I felt really sorry for the extraordinary lovers... Hah, making love with angels? Must be an unearthy pleasure... You did a very good job here, Siv! Congratulations! I loved it that the end is somehow open and not completely happy end. But as in the DM songs, there's that certain sparkle of hope lingering in the air...