just a little something I thought I'd share, this is a very rough version but if anyone has any constructive criticism i'm glad to hear it.
Dark Mistress
She sits across from me, black lipstick staining a black clove cigarette, my dream woman, my Dark Mistress. Her hair flows across her bare, alabaster shoulder like liquid midnight as she reaches for the ashtray.
She's talking to me of Sartre as I sip my coffee and I loose myself in the uncertainty of existentialism. Is there really any coffee in this mug? Would it exist if I were not here? Am I here? Is this Macabre goddess actually here? Here with me?
She reaches out and takes my hand, drawing me out of my existential fugue saying "This, is all the proof that I need that the world around us is real. The warmth of another person, the smell of our cigarettes, the taste of this coffee. I don't really care if all of it only exists because I expect it to. It's real to me. I plan on enjoying it."
The waitress drops off the bill but I barely notice. There was something about the way she said that last sentence, I plan on enjoying it, perhaps it was her faint smile, or that almost predatory gleam in her eyes. Or maybe it was just the touching of our hands. Something within me stirred to life. Sitting across from the physical embodiment of my perfect darkest fantasy I felt all the repressed passion of my twenty some odd years rising from somewhere inside of me that I wasn't even aware existed.
The song on the jukebox changed, The Cure's Maybe Someday starts it's jangling intro and Robert Smith begins his dark introspective warblings. I wasn't aware that this cafe had a jukebox let alone one with The Cure on it. She smiles and still holding my hand stands and leans in close to me and whispers, "Dance with me..." I use Ellipsis here because I'm unsure whether it was a question, request, or command.
I still don't know why I did it. Those who know me know that I don't dance, not in public and especially not in a venue where dancing isn't expected. I rise into her and wrap my arm around her slender waist as she curls hers around my neck. We dance impossibly close to one another, our eyes locked, as if each was trying to stare into the other's soul. I shiver involuntarily and close my eyes focusing on the feel of her silky top against my hand, the smell of her, so close to me, and the soft jingle of the metal rings that run down the side of her knee high boots. I feel her hand running through my hair and her warm breath against my neck. She starts singing along, her voice is intoxicating. She sings in a whisper yet it's perfecly clear, her voice seems more husky but ever so soft.
"I'll see you smile as you call my name, Start to feel, and it feels the same, And I know that maybe someday's come, Maybe someday's come...
"If I could do it again maybe just once more, Think I could make it work like I did it before, If I could try it out, If I could just be sure, That maybe someday is the last time, Yeah maybe someday is the end, Oh maybe someday is when it all stops, Or maybe someday always comes again..."
As she finishes the song she kisses me softly on the neck, the lightest brush of lips against my skin. I shiver again as the hairs of my neck,among other things, stand up. I'm sure she notices due to our close proximity and feel my face going flush. She smiles up at me and says "It's getting late, maybe it's time you walked me home."
I toss a ten on the table as she leads me into the night. The temperature is mellow and there's a nice breeze as we wind our way through the streets. She tells me that as a child she always felt there was a certain magic to nights like tonight, clear skies full of stars and enough moonlight that it doesn't matter that the street lamps are all burnt out in this part of town. I can only agree with her, there had to be magic for the sole fact that this woman has walked out of my dreams into this perfect night. I tell her this and she smiles.
"I bet you say that to all the girls." She takes my hand again and curls in close, smelling of cloves and 2 AM. All the girls. There's only one girl at this point. You could throw an army of the most beautiful women in the world at me and none could have matched the Goddess that was walking by my side. I said this too, or at least something like it. It probably came out more like "There are no other glubbbitty-goobity glorp." My natural awkwardness seems somehow intensified around her but she doesn't seem to mind. We just walk hand in hand through the moonlight, smiling all the way.
As her building comes into view I'm suddenly on the verge of panic. It can't end here. A feeling of dread was born in the pit of my stomach and it was growing into an agonizing sense of loss and despair. Was fate trult so cruel as to offer me a glimpse of paradise only to strip it from me again? The thought of walking away from her wrenched at my soul. Spears of white hot flame were exploding within me. I had finally found her and I knew I could never let her go. I follow her through the lobby trying to think of some way to prolong the evening, I shoot an imploring look at the doorman who just smiles and tips his hat. Don't just smile you idiot, Help me!
We ride the elevator up to her floor with some tired looking woman and what I assume is her child. The tired woman nods at us uncomfortably and shuffles into a corner to ignore us as the child just stares. When I say the woman looks tired I mean she's a burnt out shell. Soulless, lifeless, completely vacant and hollow. She was most likely beautiful once, in fact I'm sure she was. Looking at her I knew that was the way I would be if my Mistress threw me aside. Had this happened to her at some point? Had she found the perfect someone only to be tossed aside? Perhaps it was the father of the quiet child clinging to her skirt, or maybe the fact that she never knew the ecstasies I had felt earlier had left her broken.
I search her face looking for the answers to my own predicament as her child stares at us, no, not us, Her. He stares at my Goddess accusingly, as if every hurt and injustice to have befallen him in his short life were her fault alone.
We exit at Her floor and begin the death march towards the room. I cast a glance back towards the elevator as the doors are closing and catch a glimpse of something that will haunt me until the day I die. The tired woman and her child are both looking at us with, what I can only describe as pure malice. Perhaps I imagined it, or perhaps the malice was born of jealousy. I'll never know. I'm too preoccupied with my current predicament.
The hall stretches for an eternity. This must be what it feels like to be led to your execution. There is a tension that I can't seem to put into words. You want to duck and run but at the same time know deep down that this is it, your life ends with the hall and there's no stopping it.
We reach her door and she has key in hand as I try to find words to tell her what I'm feeling. My life hangs on the next few seconds yet I can't seem to find any words. Damn words, they always come so easily to me, why have they left me now when I need them most.
That's when the impossible happens. She leads me by the hand into her room and shuts the door behind us. She looks up at me, her hand reaching out and stroking the side of my face and in this moment I knew life would be everything one could hope for. Here in this simple touch I know that dreams can come true, that all the bad in my life had led me to this sheer bliss. Good things did come to those who wait. My Dark Mistress was proof of these things and more.
She leans in kissing me gently on the lips, her hand moving from my face to wrap itself in my hair. All of my awkwardness melts away and I reach out for her. I wrap my arms around her waist and draw her into me. Our passion grows and the gently kissing turns into something far more fierce, a primal hunger that can't be sated. She grips my shirt and pulls it open sending a shower of buttons clattering to the floor. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my waist as I walk toward the bed. She bites down hard on my collarbone as I sweep her luggage to the floor. I moan with pleasure as she rakes her nails down my back and slowly lower her to the bed. We move against each other caught in our passions, our hands exploring each others bodies and my hand catches the thin strap of her shirt. I bring it down slowly over her shoulder. as her hand brushes down my chest going ever lower. Her top falls to her waist as she rolls on top of me. She smiles ever so playfully and pins my hands above my head. I take her in and am struck breathless by her slim perfection. She rolls away and stands in front of me slowly dancing as she removes her skirt. My eyes start locked to hers but soon wander to her small breasts. I watch the way she moves and the curving of her back, and when the skirt is finally removed my eyes settle on her BRIGHT PINK HELLO KITTY UNDERWEAR.
How could this be? My dark mistress, my queen of the macabre is wearing undergarments emblazoned with one of my many sworn nemesis. My world shatters around me as I stare into the many repeating Chibi Kittehs who are now waving and smiling at me. Their collective winks mocking me as this woman before me quickly becomes just another face in the crowd.
I gather my shirt and apologize as I leave. ,Oh well I think as I stalk back through the town, I never liked Sartre anyway...pretentious fuck.
Dark Mistress
She sits across from me, black lipstick staining a black clove cigarette, my dream woman, my Dark Mistress. Her hair flows across her bare, alabaster shoulder like liquid midnight as she reaches for the ashtray.
She's talking to me of Sartre as I sip my coffee and I loose myself in the uncertainty of existentialism. Is there really any coffee in this mug? Would it exist if I were not here? Am I here? Is this Macabre goddess actually here? Here with me?
She reaches out and takes my hand, drawing me out of my existential fugue saying "This, is all the proof that I need that the world around us is real. The warmth of another person, the smell of our cigarettes, the taste of this coffee. I don't really care if all of it only exists because I expect it to. It's real to me. I plan on enjoying it."
The waitress drops off the bill but I barely notice. There was something about the way she said that last sentence, I plan on enjoying it, perhaps it was her faint smile, or that almost predatory gleam in her eyes. Or maybe it was just the touching of our hands. Something within me stirred to life. Sitting across from the physical embodiment of my perfect darkest fantasy I felt all the repressed passion of my twenty some odd years rising from somewhere inside of me that I wasn't even aware existed.
The song on the jukebox changed, The Cure's Maybe Someday starts it's jangling intro and Robert Smith begins his dark introspective warblings. I wasn't aware that this cafe had a jukebox let alone one with The Cure on it. She smiles and still holding my hand stands and leans in close to me and whispers, "Dance with me..." I use Ellipsis here because I'm unsure whether it was a question, request, or command.
I still don't know why I did it. Those who know me know that I don't dance, not in public and especially not in a venue where dancing isn't expected. I rise into her and wrap my arm around her slender waist as she curls hers around my neck. We dance impossibly close to one another, our eyes locked, as if each was trying to stare into the other's soul. I shiver involuntarily and close my eyes focusing on the feel of her silky top against my hand, the smell of her, so close to me, and the soft jingle of the metal rings that run down the side of her knee high boots. I feel her hand running through my hair and her warm breath against my neck. She starts singing along, her voice is intoxicating. She sings in a whisper yet it's perfecly clear, her voice seems more husky but ever so soft.
"I'll see you smile as you call my name, Start to feel, and it feels the same, And I know that maybe someday's come, Maybe someday's come...
"If I could do it again maybe just once more, Think I could make it work like I did it before, If I could try it out, If I could just be sure, That maybe someday is the last time, Yeah maybe someday is the end, Oh maybe someday is when it all stops, Or maybe someday always comes again..."
As she finishes the song she kisses me softly on the neck, the lightest brush of lips against my skin. I shiver again as the hairs of my neck,among other things, stand up. I'm sure she notices due to our close proximity and feel my face going flush. She smiles up at me and says "It's getting late, maybe it's time you walked me home."
I toss a ten on the table as she leads me into the night. The temperature is mellow and there's a nice breeze as we wind our way through the streets. She tells me that as a child she always felt there was a certain magic to nights like tonight, clear skies full of stars and enough moonlight that it doesn't matter that the street lamps are all burnt out in this part of town. I can only agree with her, there had to be magic for the sole fact that this woman has walked out of my dreams into this perfect night. I tell her this and she smiles.
"I bet you say that to all the girls." She takes my hand again and curls in close, smelling of cloves and 2 AM. All the girls. There's only one girl at this point. You could throw an army of the most beautiful women in the world at me and none could have matched the Goddess that was walking by my side. I said this too, or at least something like it. It probably came out more like "There are no other glubbbitty-goobity glorp." My natural awkwardness seems somehow intensified around her but she doesn't seem to mind. We just walk hand in hand through the moonlight, smiling all the way.
As her building comes into view I'm suddenly on the verge of panic. It can't end here. A feeling of dread was born in the pit of my stomach and it was growing into an agonizing sense of loss and despair. Was fate trult so cruel as to offer me a glimpse of paradise only to strip it from me again? The thought of walking away from her wrenched at my soul. Spears of white hot flame were exploding within me. I had finally found her and I knew I could never let her go. I follow her through the lobby trying to think of some way to prolong the evening, I shoot an imploring look at the doorman who just smiles and tips his hat. Don't just smile you idiot, Help me!
We ride the elevator up to her floor with some tired looking woman and what I assume is her child. The tired woman nods at us uncomfortably and shuffles into a corner to ignore us as the child just stares. When I say the woman looks tired I mean she's a burnt out shell. Soulless, lifeless, completely vacant and hollow. She was most likely beautiful once, in fact I'm sure she was. Looking at her I knew that was the way I would be if my Mistress threw me aside. Had this happened to her at some point? Had she found the perfect someone only to be tossed aside? Perhaps it was the father of the quiet child clinging to her skirt, or maybe the fact that she never knew the ecstasies I had felt earlier had left her broken.
I search her face looking for the answers to my own predicament as her child stares at us, no, not us, Her. He stares at my Goddess accusingly, as if every hurt and injustice to have befallen him in his short life were her fault alone.
We exit at Her floor and begin the death march towards the room. I cast a glance back towards the elevator as the doors are closing and catch a glimpse of something that will haunt me until the day I die. The tired woman and her child are both looking at us with, what I can only describe as pure malice. Perhaps I imagined it, or perhaps the malice was born of jealousy. I'll never know. I'm too preoccupied with my current predicament.
The hall stretches for an eternity. This must be what it feels like to be led to your execution. There is a tension that I can't seem to put into words. You want to duck and run but at the same time know deep down that this is it, your life ends with the hall and there's no stopping it.
We reach her door and she has key in hand as I try to find words to tell her what I'm feeling. My life hangs on the next few seconds yet I can't seem to find any words. Damn words, they always come so easily to me, why have they left me now when I need them most.
That's when the impossible happens. She leads me by the hand into her room and shuts the door behind us. She looks up at me, her hand reaching out and stroking the side of my face and in this moment I knew life would be everything one could hope for. Here in this simple touch I know that dreams can come true, that all the bad in my life had led me to this sheer bliss. Good things did come to those who wait. My Dark Mistress was proof of these things and more.
She leans in kissing me gently on the lips, her hand moving from my face to wrap itself in my hair. All of my awkwardness melts away and I reach out for her. I wrap my arms around her waist and draw her into me. Our passion grows and the gently kissing turns into something far more fierce, a primal hunger that can't be sated. She grips my shirt and pulls it open sending a shower of buttons clattering to the floor. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my waist as I walk toward the bed. She bites down hard on my collarbone as I sweep her luggage to the floor. I moan with pleasure as she rakes her nails down my back and slowly lower her to the bed. We move against each other caught in our passions, our hands exploring each others bodies and my hand catches the thin strap of her shirt. I bring it down slowly over her shoulder. as her hand brushes down my chest going ever lower. Her top falls to her waist as she rolls on top of me. She smiles ever so playfully and pins my hands above my head. I take her in and am struck breathless by her slim perfection. She rolls away and stands in front of me slowly dancing as she removes her skirt. My eyes start locked to hers but soon wander to her small breasts. I watch the way she moves and the curving of her back, and when the skirt is finally removed my eyes settle on her BRIGHT PINK HELLO KITTY UNDERWEAR.
How could this be? My dark mistress, my queen of the macabre is wearing undergarments emblazoned with one of my many sworn nemesis. My world shatters around me as I stare into the many repeating Chibi Kittehs who are now waving and smiling at me. Their collective winks mocking me as this woman before me quickly becomes just another face in the crowd.
I gather my shirt and apologize as I leave. ,Oh well I think as I stalk back through the town, I never liked Sartre anyway...pretentious fuck.