2. Picture Two - Theonlygolux

I watch her face as celluloid ripples through the projector, her flickers of emotion mirroring those she showed on screen. The passion running into her again as she watches its imprint move upon the screen, a flash of distaste as the camera zooms in on her thighs, a sparkle of desire as it shows the man's muscled back. She never liked her thighs, and always coveted those of other men than I.

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His face always hidden, his blond hair falling over features I want to destroy, to rip apart, despoil. His back muscled, tanned and bare. I need to ask but I stand frozen, unable to ask, titillated and disgusted as whoever shot the film zooms in and pans down her body, her black hair falling over perfect pearly flesh. Looking down I see the same flesh curving away from her hair and sliding out of sight beneath her dress, flesh I ache to hold, to squeeze and scratch in passion.

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Despite myself she still exerts a hold upon me, drawing me to her, to smell her, touch her, feel her. Above the screen turns pink with naked bodies as they intertwine. I have seen it before, watched it disbelieving, resigned a dozen times before I asked to see her. Where it came from, for what purpose it was made I cannot guess, I cannot even tell the effect it has on me. It should make me wish to spurn her, beat her, kill her, but it makes me want her more.

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Her cigarette sits forgotten in her hand, the smoke curling up into the light, breaking apart, turning and spiralling, rolling and boiling in the air that sits between us, stale and silent with unease. Her breath comes faster as her image reaches climax. I can tell she wants to ask to see the film again, but I will not accede to her request. The celluloid whips as it leaves one reel behind, moving onwards to a new pursuit, tearing the screen to white. It is time to speak. The silence must be broken.

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She turns to me and opens lips I want to kiss, raises eyes that I can see no love in any longer. She does not speak, just sits and looks at me.

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"I'm sorry, darling." I hear myself saying, against my will, but I cannot fight those eyes, her lips, her perfect skin commands me beg for my forgiveness. "I am sorry."

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Theonlygolux blogs HERE at Concepts for a Buntiful World

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