Fallen

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Raven-tressed Rosaline Rosa wanders slowly through a barren, eerily beautiful landscape. Her flowing gown flutters in the breeze, her expression somber, melancholy, downcast — emotions reflected by the doleful soundtrack. She stands on a ridge, arms outstretched, rises on her toes, and falls backward. But this isn't the end, it's the beginning of Andrej Lupin's hauntingly beautiful and deeply romantic "Fallen." When Rosa, now nude, comes to rest, she's on her back in bed, and her lover, Kristof Cale, is passionately performing cunnilingus on her. After trading heartfelt kisses they transition to the spoon position, the first of several in which they make love. Now the mood is intimate, warm, inviting, and the bond the lovers share is palpable. While there is an undercurrent of intensity, and Rosa expresses her pleasure vocally throughout the encounter, the pace is easy, relaxed, two people moving as one, towards a goal that is as evenly shared as it is inevitable. Rosa strums her clitoris. Cale pistons vigorously feeding off the music of her moaning and the movement of her exquisite body. They arrive at the final crescendo. Rosaline's body and mind are flooded with bliss as a burst of semen floods in, and then slowly out — but "Fallen" has not reached its end. Once more Rosaline walks, alone, on that desolate, rocky ground. Once more she rises on her toes. Once more she falls. An intriguing, ambiguous ending with a myriad possible explanations and interpretations. And it's that cryptic complexity — along with its romantic vitality — that helps "Fallen" rise to the level of true erotic art.