Power ( Irina Stracynski)

Night comes quick to New york. You can see the fading twilight glisten against the tall skyscrapers.



Tonite was the "fifty years of swinging" party at the skybar. As a model these type of events usually were open to me, but beneath me. But tonite I was forlorn. I wanted to do something....different.



I put on a pair of leather pants, and a tight low cut shirt. Then I layed a coating of black nail polish on my fingers. After combing down my straight black hair, I looked in the mirror. I was femme fatale meets Russian punk and I loved it.



My car service brought me to the skybar around 7. I took the elevator up to the top floor: The VIP room. There were other models, along with politicians, movie stars, and even some Russian mafioso's. At first my heart sank. same kind of people I always saw, with nothing new to offer until I turned around. At the entrance was a very striking man. He stood at 6'1 or 6'2, with wavy brown hair. His face had light stubble, which gave him an air of ruggidity. Something came over me...an urge, even a physical need. Our eyes met and we walked, meeting each other halfway. As if blurting it out I said:" I want your body". His look was one of perplexed satisfaction. He moved in and we kissed. The passion between us was fiery. We broke away, and I pulled his ear towards my mouth and whispered something to him sensually.We both knew what was coming next.



For the party, several swinger rooms had been set up, and they were first come first serve. We straggled in, embracing. I closed and locked the door while I "unlocked" his mouth. We flipped over onto the bed. Beginning to interlock bodies, I wrapped my legs around him and we drifted.

In that moment of bliss, of pure unadulterated ambrosia, something happened. It wasn't my first time so when this sensation occurred it was definitely different. It was a moment of clarity and transference. I felt a small power rise within me, and then we reached our peak, falling into a listful enrapturement, and I passed out.

I wandered into a strange dream. It was fast with images flashing before my eyes. I saw a soldier running through an array of bullets, then my "liaison" dissecting the body of the same soldier, and finally an image of us in the heat of the moment.

I woke up abruptly to see the sun lighting the small rendezvous room. I put on my clothes but stayed quiet so as not to wake up my sleeping partner. Something had changed though. When I looked at him, all the feelings of attraction had vanished.

It had been a fun evening and all but now, in the harsh light of day a certain fear had arisen. At an event like this, with all the celebrities that had been around, and with other sleepover guests like us there were bound to be paparazzi snooping around for a scoop. If I was caught in a trashy expose my career as a model would be over, no questions asked. Then it happened again. I had another flash, similar to the dreams and I saw the soldier again, poised with bullets coming at him, and he praying for himself to be able to endure them. And with force of thought he did. What was happening to me. What were these "visions" trying to show me? And then it got worse. Outside I heard camera clicking and an anxious reporting exclaiming," tomorrow's front page is going to read: Philanthropist gets freaky on Friday." I was fucked. I just wished I could walk out unseen. Then if things couldn't possibly go more south, the flashes made a final appearance. I saw my unconscious lover wishing for luck while scratching out a lottery ticket, and wouldn't you know it, he won. It was becoming clear to me what was going on as I made the connections. The soldier had touched the lover and he touched me. I knew I had felt something during the sex. I still felt it inside me. I centralized a single thought into my mind. Don't be seen. I focused my will completely on it, with every bit of fear becoming necessity for this to work. Then I opened the door and watched as the photographer seemed to look through and upon what seemed to be his lack of notice he walked past me and began taking pictures of my one night stand. I crept across the VIP room to the elevator and escaped to the first floor as fast as possible. When the fear subsided a wave of relief washed over me. I smiled to myself curtly. I had left my home the night before seeking a certain " je ne c'est quoi" (french for I don't know) and I had found it assuming this wasn't all a dream. After seeing what I did and what the others did I knew what I wanted and more importantly I knew what I had. Power

End of volume one of connections