Wednesday, 3 October 2012

"Click-Clack" (Captain Beefheart)

She could hear the unhurried
click-clack of his heels, good
leather on polished wood, pausing
now and then—to
admire the view? The city
resplendent in autumn light? Or her—
naked, blindfolded and
restrained across a coffee table?
Who could see her on this fine
busy mid-day? She
knew the blinds were open as she could
feel the sun heating her bare flesh,
knew well that clink-
slick-slick-slick of his
belt being removed,
knew she was about to be
beaten, abused and fucked (she
knew no nicer way of
putting it) however he pleased
before an audience of gawping
lunchtime strangers, but she
didn’t know why she found this so
unbearably exciting.

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