Darling. {poetry}
{source}
She parts her lips to sip her gin and tonic
Red lipstick on her teeth like blood
Her last victim lying somewhere, smoking a cigarette and wondering whether she considers him a god or a fool.
She does not consider him at all.
The crowd is faceless gents and dames reading lips over the music and laughing halfheartedly as each takes turns being coy
She checks her phone, but no one is searching for her
No one is lying awake wondering if she’s home safe
She brushes past versions of him throughout the crowd on her way to the bar
The loudest place to quiet the noise
She sits down beside me and orders a double
Her long legs, crossed at the ankle, are still somehow inviting
She tucks her dark hair behind her ears, and her fingers gently trace her neck and shoulders
I want my hands around her throat
I want her to be mine for just an hour
The overwhelming scent of perfume as she takes off her coat
She smells like gardenia, with just a hint of loneliness
Just enough for her to shed the rest of her clothes on my floor
I swallow the rest of my wine, and slide the lip-stained glass to the bartender
I lean over and touch her arm as my matte black nails drag softly over her skin
She turns her attention away from the poor sap who never stood a chance
I tell her she’s beautiful with my eyes, and then with my lips
I tell her she’s beautiful in ways that a man cannot
I tell her gracefully
I tell her delicately
And she listens
She whispers her name in my ear as I introduce myself with my hands
My fingers dance up her thigh and I choose to ask for forgiveness rather than permission
Her skin is warm and her hair stands on end as my breath sends a chill down her spine
Her eyes move from mine to the door
I throw cash on the bar and follow her
to the first cab she hails
She smirks and takes her best shot at seduction
Giving it her all in hopes I find her enticing
She’s done this before
She’s been here many times
But never with someone like myself
She’s mysterious to all the rest
But I just see a girl trying much too hard to be wanted by ordinary men looking for a cheap thrill
She unlocks the door and leads me upstairs
Her stilettos echo through the hallway and she opens her bedroom door
There are clothes on the floor, and pictures of strangers she has not spoken to in months
I grab her like a scene from an old Hollywood film and devour her
I slide her dress to her feet
She wore lace, hoping she found someone with a tongue sharp enough to taste her
I treat her with mercy that is reserved for a lady
I kiss her like I may love her one day
But I can’t seem to even remember her name, so I call her Darling
She’s beautiful even when she whimpers
I pull her closer
I pull her deeper
And she comes willing
Her back arches and she grips the sheets
A final breath escapes past her pouted lips smeared with red from pressing her mouth into mine
She laughs before sinking into the pillow where many fools have lain before me
I tuck her hair back behind her ear and kiss her forehead before closing the door behind me and shutting out the sliver of light from the hall
Goodnight, darling
She smiles, then reaches for her phone, but no one is wondering what bed she lies in tonight
I smoke a cigarette as I leave
There is little wonder as to whether she considers me a fool or a goddess.
I do not consider her at all.
***
Monica Torres is a recovering cynic and world traveler, scouring the earth for meaning, purpose, and fine wines. You could contact her via her website, Facebook or Instagram.
***
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