Games

"Teach me." She says. "I want to know how, I want to be good at it, like you."

Checkers, Hopscotch, Five Stones and other familiar games of childhood have long been replaced by the game we call Life and Love.

"Please," she cries out all too eagerly now anxious to get to the lesson proper.

Not many play the games but those who do have developed a killer instinct to stay alive.

"Why won't you teach me?" She sits and pouts and will continue doing so until she gets her way. What she doesn't know (or perhaps she does) is that she is already playing the game and doing it all too well! Every flick of those long eye lashes and every sigh of her sweet breath is a carefully placed move in the complicated game of love. Her body is a carefully honed weapon of destruction aimed to take no prisoners. She is the huntress and I have become the prey.

"So what is it exactly that you want me to teach you?"

She grins a feral grin, her teeth gleaming in the candlelight.
"hypnotics," She says and moves closer to me letting me inhale her scent, her heat, her essence. And just like that, she gets me and commands my attention. Her pupils are fully dilated and so are mine. She doesn't need me to teach her that which she already knows all too well. She's playing the game.

I am the prey and she the predator. The roles have switched.
"Well, that's not an easy thing to teach or learn. First it's the voice, then the eye contact, then...."
She is hooked, now it is I who commands her attention. Now is the time I strike. I lean into her and take a deep breath. I brush her hair aside and plunge my teeth into her neck.

The prey now the predator.

In the darken streets below, a lone figure of a beautiful woman emerges from one of the passageways that lead up to the apartments. She is flushed. Stepping out to the streets, she pauses only once, glancing behind her before hurrying off into the night.

Belly Full of Tears

A sick feeling in the pit of the belly. That's where the tears go when they don't come out.

She sits alone in the dark refusing to give in...refusing to let those treacherous tears roll down her cheek. To do so would be to admit defeat.
It would be so simple, to just give in but pride was more important and besides, pride was the only thing she had left.
So she swallows it, all of it, the tears, the sorrow, the disappointment. She swallows it all into the pit of her belly where it sits and makes her sick.