It’s fascinating to me how I can be so appreciative of a particular scent. Her perfume is a combination of sandalwood and sweaty musk. No doubt that it’s a kind of aphrodisiac, but not in a purely sexual sense. Rather, I feel overwhelmingly fond of her, a gratefulness for her presence in my life. My heart basks in a most delightful and soothing burn. I feel my spirit body intermittently nuzzling against hers and a storm of tingles races over my skin. When she smells this good, I do it unconsciously all day long. My thoughts drift towards savoring Catherine’s gentle presence automatically.

The time has come for me to move on from this place. Catherine and I have lived in the frozen North for long enough. We’re headed South for warmer pastures. We’re not spending another suffocating winter here, nearly asphyxiating ourselves on the smoke from the drama. It’s just as I described in the last post about my dream, the one with the burning woodpile… Catherine’s prophecy. I need to let it go and just leave. Nobody wants my help here either way. They’re content to wallow in their misery.

The Links section has been updated. I go through and make sure everything is current every now and again. Sadly, we’ve lost another blog: My Succubus Marissa. Archive.org managed to save some of it, but it’s still unfortunate to see people leave. Though I can understand why they set a proverbial torch to their writings. Sometimes our succubi compel us to go dark and silent for a time. They carefully manage our exposure to the world, so that we don’t bring unnecessary harm to ourselves. They’re our loving, unseen agents beyond the veil.