On Display

“Look at her” Kris says with admiration. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

He’s talking about me. Appraising scrutiny from our audience brings forth nods of approval and encouraging smiles. I’m awkward, nervous at being so exposed in front of this many people. They’re all looking at my naked body. There’s nowhere to hide. Heat rises to my face in an embarrassed blush and rushes to the pit of my stomach in a flare of arousal.

Chair Scene

The chair looms in the corner, all chunky bars and wipe-clean padding; the leather straps dangling, waiting for a warm body to enclose in their sturdy embrace. Mine.

The chair looms in the corner, all chunky bars and wipe-clean padding; the leather straps dangling, waiting for a warm body to enclose in their sturdy embrace. Mine.

One of them pushes me across the room, small contemptuous shoves as the others look on with predatory smirks, anticipation gleaming in their eyes. Today I’m playing the dumb terrified animal captured and tormented; I move as though in a daze, eyes wide and trembling, silent and passive. I’m a toy, a vessel, a doll for them to play with until they get bored or break me, whichever comes first. For this I need no words. Nothing is required of me but pliant flesh, open holes, a heartbeat.

Sightseeing

She has me pinned against the door; one hand around my neck and the other shoved down the front of my jeans. I struggle briefly; protesting “What if someone sees us?”

The museum is mostly deserted, only a handful of straggling tourists ambling from room to room. Here in the long corridor, we are alone for the moment, but anyone turning the corner couldn’t help but catch sight of us even tucked into the doorway niche as we are.

She laughs at me. “I’ll say you’ve got something in your eye” Mirth gives way to focus, her intent gaze making my stomach flutter. When she looks at me like this, I can almost feel the heat of her cobalt-laser eyes drilling into me. I relax and lean against the door, spreading my legs as wide as the confined space allows.

Private Viewing

Beauty, they say, is in the eye of the beholder

Your heart quickens every time you catch that first glimpse, melts with wonder and joy as you gaze longer until you are burning with fierce adoring need. Painted and polished, on display for the gaze of the discerning connoisseur and the idle glance disinterested passer-by both; she presents the same face to all and provokes in you a hot desperate need for exclusivity, access to the soul behind the smile, to explore the uncharted territory of mind and heart beneath the smoothed-over surface.

There are no fingers deft enough to pick her locks, impervious to light touch or sly nudge she stays locked away behind a shield of transparency. What you see is what you get, says her open face; here on my sleeve is my heart, look no further. You know there is more, and better beneath.