Thursday, 23 February 2012

Three Noises

Her laughter is the sweetest water,
her sigh the sharpest reproach,
her moan the deepest joy.

Puritans of the Playground

Her “lunch” went on longer than she’d intended so
there was no time to go home and shower and
throw on the uniform of jeans and sweater or
better still a tracksuit, so she had stand in the
school playground in her sharp suit with that
lovely low neckline and her highest heels,
suffering the stares of the other Mothers
screaming Slut, Whore, Jezebel when their
husbands were probably beating their
meat on the internet and sex meant a
quick shag on their birthdays, and maybe she’d
been at a business meeting! No, ok, she
was an adultress with
pleasantly sticky knickers and she was
damned if the puritans of the
playground were going to spoil the
memory of such a
momentous fuck.

Friday, 17 February 2012

A Winter Break

She swam under a cormorant sky
willing it to rain to quench somewhat the
heat that drew her here from a
brutal winter and early widowhood but had
oppressed her since, like the
sweaty weight of an invisible body
stirring her long-dead loins into
cruel longing, arousal, the blush of
shame she felt as she dog-paddled towards
Africa where the men lying on the beach looked like
dark driftwood on which she knew she would
end up impaled.

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Mother Knows?

She knew straight away—do
Mothers always know?—that her
daughter was now (horrid expression)
sexually active: that little
flushed smile and the embarrassed
wriggle of her hips when she
thought herself unobserved. Her
father would be horrified, though his
new child-bride might be more
....understanding, perhaps?

She wondered if they should have another “talk”, but
what if that talk turned to her own
current man-friend and what her
vanilla Mum now enjoyed? The
purple stripes on her bum and the
plug within, the thick collar and
heavy chain hidden beneath her more
exotic underwear, the exhilarating threat of being
offered to others?

Oh shit, she thought, as she
blew on her tea—how on
earth would I ever
explain all that?

Wednesday, 8 February 2012

The Anonymous Door

At the anonymous door she paused to collect her
scattered nerves and found she was
twisting her wedding ring as though about to
take it off, but she thought of the
patrons within who paid top dollar to
give it hard to someone else’s wife so she
left it on her finger as she
glanced up to find Venus, bright in the
night sky—her Goddess, her
totem, her protector—and dedicated to her
whatever was to happen as she
opened the door and
went in.

Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Lost Property

She stamped her feet to try and
get some circulation going on the
gelid platform in the near dark of
dawn waiting for the train that
wouldn’t come despite her
desperation and just when she thought she would
die her phone tinged a text “You
forgot something” shit what?
her glasses? her report? her
life? oh and there was a photo of his
startlingly erect penis “Needs a
warm, wet home” and she
shivered with heat and cold and decided to
give the train another 30 seconds before she
gave it all up.