decorative only. Which is probably one of the many reasons things had to change. Decorative towels. Form without function... that could very well be the epitaph on the tomb of humanity.
I hear the beaded curtain rattle behind me and my heightened senses pick up that unmistakable scent of Polly's body. That tantalizing combination of sweat and powder and skin and perfume, so heady that I could get drunk just by breathing it in.
“Richard... where's Cody? Whose blood is that out in the hall?”
Her voice sounds hopeful and frightened all at the same time and my stomach flutters a little. How long have I wanted this woman? How many years did I deny myself the pleasure of even admitting that I wanted her? All that wasted time....
“Yeah, Cody. I'm afraid he didn't make it, honey. Didn't make the cut, you might say.”
Silence.
I fold the towel carefully and place it back on its little rod.
I feel power surging through my veins like I've never known. When you have the ability to decide who live or dies, you become almost like a god. You see the entire world spreading out before you like a veritable buffet where you're free to pick and choose only the things which most please you.
“Oh my God, Richard, you're bleeding! There's blood all over you!”
I hear her feet pattering across the tile and finally turn to face her. She's more beautiful now than I have ever seen her; her skin so radiant that it almost seems to glow, her hair shiny and flaxen, her breasts jiggling slightly as she runs to me, the hem of her skirt swishing slightly around her ankles. And her shirt. The one she's wearing now let's me know it wasn't all in my imagination. There's a message there after all.
You Cannot Plow A Field By Turning It Over In Your Mind .
I smile and take her hand. So soft. So delicate and warm.
“The blood's not mine.” I whisper. “It's okay.”
I kiss her hand and breathe in the scent of her skin and then kiss again. I feel her arm stiffen and her words become clipped.
“Richard. What are you doing?”
I tighten my grip on her wrist and kiss a little higher up her arm, enjoying the tickle of the almost transparent hairs against my lips.
“It's okay.” I assure her. “Cody's out of the way. Jane doesn't matter. It's just you and me now, Polly. Just you and me.”
She tries to pull away and I feel her skin twist beneath my grip almost as if I were giving her an Indian burn.
“You're hurting me! Let go!”
“Sshhhh. Sshhh. Be still pretty, pretty Polly. I'm here now.”
I yank her to me and I see fear reflected in her wide eyes. Or is that excitement?
She begins pummeling my chest with her free hand, scratching at my face, digging deep furrows into my skin.
“ Let me go!”
So that's how it is. That little fucking tease. Leading me on. Showing me just enough of her body to arouse my interest. Mocking me. Well, it's a new world now. A world where I'm free to just take whatever the hell I want. Whenever the hell I want it.
I throw her backward against the kitchen table, forcing her down upon its surface. She's kicking and squirming and trying to bite at me with her teeth, but this only excites me further and I laugh like a king returning from the royal hunt.
“Richard, no! No, no, NO!”
“Richard's dead, baby. Call me Rick. Or Dick. You like Dick, don't you, Polly? Sure you do.”
Her screams echo through the kitchen, so shrill and desperate.
But it makes no difference.
It's time to claim what has always been rightfully mine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I'm trying to bunch up her skirt with my free hand while holding her down with the other. Which is a lot harder than I thought it would be. She's writhing and kicking and squirming like a woman possessed by demons and my right forearm has bloody little teeth prints embedded into the flesh.
“Damn it, lay fucking still!”
I'm trying to twist my arm away from the vicinity of her mouth, trying to make sure she doesn't get another chunk of my skin
I hear the beaded curtain rattle behind me and my heightened senses pick up that unmistakable scent of Polly's body. That tantalizing combination of sweat and powder and skin and perfume, so heady that I could get drunk just by breathing it in.
“Richard... where's Cody? Whose blood is that out in the hall?”
Her voice sounds hopeful and frightened all at the same time and my stomach flutters a little. How long have I wanted this woman? How many years did I deny myself the pleasure of even admitting that I wanted her? All that wasted time....
“Yeah, Cody. I'm afraid he didn't make it, honey. Didn't make the cut, you might say.”
Silence.
I fold the towel carefully and place it back on its little rod.
I feel power surging through my veins like I've never known. When you have the ability to decide who live or dies, you become almost like a god. You see the entire world spreading out before you like a veritable buffet where you're free to pick and choose only the things which most please you.
“Oh my God, Richard, you're bleeding! There's blood all over you!”
I hear her feet pattering across the tile and finally turn to face her. She's more beautiful now than I have ever seen her; her skin so radiant that it almost seems to glow, her hair shiny and flaxen, her breasts jiggling slightly as she runs to me, the hem of her skirt swishing slightly around her ankles. And her shirt. The one she's wearing now let's me know it wasn't all in my imagination. There's a message there after all.
You Cannot Plow A Field By Turning It Over In Your Mind .
I smile and take her hand. So soft. So delicate and warm.
“The blood's not mine.” I whisper. “It's okay.”
I kiss her hand and breathe in the scent of her skin and then kiss again. I feel her arm stiffen and her words become clipped.
“Richard. What are you doing?”
I tighten my grip on her wrist and kiss a little higher up her arm, enjoying the tickle of the almost transparent hairs against my lips.
“It's okay.” I assure her. “Cody's out of the way. Jane doesn't matter. It's just you and me now, Polly. Just you and me.”
She tries to pull away and I feel her skin twist beneath my grip almost as if I were giving her an Indian burn.
“You're hurting me! Let go!”
“Sshhhh. Sshhh. Be still pretty, pretty Polly. I'm here now.”
I yank her to me and I see fear reflected in her wide eyes. Or is that excitement?
She begins pummeling my chest with her free hand, scratching at my face, digging deep furrows into my skin.
“ Let me go!”
So that's how it is. That little fucking tease. Leading me on. Showing me just enough of her body to arouse my interest. Mocking me. Well, it's a new world now. A world where I'm free to just take whatever the hell I want. Whenever the hell I want it.
I throw her backward against the kitchen table, forcing her down upon its surface. She's kicking and squirming and trying to bite at me with her teeth, but this only excites me further and I laugh like a king returning from the royal hunt.
“Richard, no! No, no, NO!”
“Richard's dead, baby. Call me Rick. Or Dick. You like Dick, don't you, Polly? Sure you do.”
Her screams echo through the kitchen, so shrill and desperate.
But it makes no difference.
It's time to claim what has always been rightfully mine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I'm trying to bunch up her skirt with my free hand while holding her down with the other. Which is a lot harder than I thought it would be. She's writhing and kicking and squirming like a woman possessed by demons and my right forearm has bloody little teeth prints embedded into the flesh.
“Damn it, lay fucking still!”
I'm trying to twist my arm away from the vicinity of her mouth, trying to make sure she doesn't get another chunk of my skin
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