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Red: Serpent in Her Garden II
The pleasure slowly leaves her. She collapses upon him. There is a stillness welcome to the darkness behind her closed eyes; it comes after the moment he leaves her and before the moment her breath leaves her parted lips. She can feel the stickiness. He had cum a lot. Inhale. His chest is warm beneath her cheek. Exhale.
Her eyes part. His arm is outstretched before her. There is a shadow of a snake upon it, a tattoo. It is looking at her, with eyes without eyes; ovals of blank space – his skin – where its eyes should be.
She looks. It brings a small disquiet into her serenity. But she is flooded with bliss and in no immediate danger, so she feels herself not moving, just looking. Looking at the blank eyes of the serpent, coiled around his arm. She has not seen it till now. There is something about moving tattoos that she has never liked. Sometimes they have a mind of their own, independent of their canvas. Sometimes they will not move as long as someone is looking. This one is a moving tattoo that isn’t moving now. This one does no more than look back at her.
She feels the rise and fall of his chest beneath her, hear his heavy breathing. She also feels that she cannot move her eyes off the snake, almost as if it were real, almost as if it has her transfixed with its empty gaze.
This irritates her.
You do not deserve the serpent. Or maybe you do, since you hid it from me until you had me. Maybe you do, but you shouldn’t.
Then the snake is moving towards her and she feels herself stiffen, but it is his arm that enfolds her, and she is suddenly wrapped in warmth and comfort and safety; all those things a woman does not need to survive, all those things only a man can provide. It is his arms that enfold her. It is his arms that swallow her, naked and whole.
She closes her eyes. Exhale.
I need to get out of here.
But she does not move. She allows herself to be rolled off of him, shifts as he shifts, until they’re both acceptably comfortable.
It is warm. It is warm and it is comfortable. She closes her eyes, breathes.
He has fallen asleep, as men always do.
She can feel the stillness, but it is not a perfect stillness. Seeing that stupid snake has unsettled her.
It is too warm to leave, it is too dangerous to stay.
She knows this feeling. It is how the girl felt, when she entered Grandmother’s cottage, and she first saw the wolf.
Too warm to leave, too dangerous to say.
She knows this feeling. It feels sticky. So much of the stillness in her life comes with stickiness; of sweat, of blood, of semen.
“Obnoxious,” she whispers to herself.
She wiggles, moving herself downwards. His forearm is enclosing her and she gives it a gentle bite. She has to stop herself from biting harder. It’s a small surprise; she is more irritated than she expects. Because of him, obviously. What he did, exactly, she does not know, but she knows she wants to bite harder – much harder – because he is very irritating and she is very irritated.
She pushes his arms away, no longer gentle, but still he sleeps.
She steps out of the bed and out of the room and she heads straight for the ice cream. She looks at the tub in the freezer but her hand doesn’t close around it.
“Obnoxious.” She’s annoyed at her thoughts and she’s annoyed at her feelings and she’s annoyed that she’s not sure what her feelings are. Her insides are a mess and her feelings are sticky and he has made them that way.
She really needs a shower but that can wait because she has come to do a job and it would be messy and she would have to shower after that. She finds some tissue and goes to the sink and wipes between her legs.
She picks up her spade and she walks back into the bedroom and he is still, annoyingly, asleep. Annoying people shouldn’t sleep. Because they’re annoying and because they don’t deserve the rest that they’ve stolen from her. The serpent is on his arm and she looks at its empty eyes and then she rolls hers. Stupid snake.
She places her foot on the bed and she rocks the mattress.
He stirs. His eyes open and his head shifts and he sees her. He smiles. “What are you doing?”
“Where’s the body?”
“I didn’t come here to… you know.”
“I didn’t come here for you to screw me.”
“I was told you needed a cleaner.”
“Yes. There isn’t one.”
“Of course,” she says to herself. To him: “I’m going.”
“Wait.” He pushes himself up. “What time is it?”
“Do you want to have breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry,” she lies.
“You have to eat.”
“Tomorrow night then?”
“Why are you so insistent on dinner?”
“That’s what normal people do on dates.”
“You’re… asking me out on a date?”
“As in… we walk hand in hand along the beach and talk?”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Tomorrow night, then.”
He is up and he is standing and she feels the warmth of him against her, skin against skin, lips upon lips – parted, soft – and then she is sitting in her car, one hand touching her lips, with a vague memory of pulling out her cellphone and texting him her number and the words – “I’ll be by around seven.” – somehow having left those very lips.
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|| Shuzhen – The first episode was a lot of fun, cos it had an interesting cocktail of sexual tension and smooth fight choreography. This episode is like the awkward aftermath...|
27 Aquarius 13 18:13
931 words / 2421