by Serena

Alejandro was exhausted. Rivulets of perspiration streamed down his taut body as he held himself poised above the object of his blazing desire.

She was beautiful. Her flame colored hair shimmered in the darkness. Her eyes sparkled with the incandescence of fire opals. Her touch on his skin was a torturous wildfire of ecstasy.

He lowered himself into the conflagration of her passionate embrace. His body ached to cocoon itself within the radiance of her aura. His mouth desperately sought to devour hers. “A kiss!” He thought, “Only that can quench the bonfire she has ignited in my soul.”

Slowly he melted into her. The touch of her lips seared his flesh. As he surrendered to the inferno of her fiery caress he heard a soft murmuring of his name.

“Alejandro.”

The sound barely registered on his consciousness. He was drawn deeper and deeper into the steaming volcano of her kiss.

“Alejandro!”

Louder now, like wind rising above a forest fire.

“ALEJANDRO!”

His name roared across his awareness. He felt himself torn from the burning grasp of his lover.

“You damned fool?” Diego de la Vega thundered at him. He heaved a bucket of icy water into Alejandro’s face. “Have you lost your mind? What were you trying to do?”

Alejandro shook his head trying to clear his vision. He was dazed. He smelled burnt hair and felt a blinding pain across his chest and belly.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” He screamed at the old man. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“My dear Alejandro, the candles were placed under you to encourage your continued exercise of the pushup motion. Not to inspire you to some perverted orgiastic fantasy with the flames.” de la Vega chuckled at him.

A short while later, as he helped Alejandro apply a poultice of crushed aloe vera leaves to the burns on his chest, the older Zorro casually asked, “By the way, who is Senorita de la Fuego?”

“How the hell should I know?” The younger man growled. He was more concerned with the wretched appearance of his singed beard than with the identity of some phantom wench from the old man’s twisted imagination. After deciding that it was beyond salvation, the beard would have to come off, his curiosity got the better of him. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just the name you were moaning as you attempted to become a human torch.” de la Vega said. He slapped the last of the slimy green goo across the stomach of his protégé. “Focus boy! Never let your emotions get in the way of your concentration. Here endeth the lesson.”

Image courtesy of Janet-Sun

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