The 27th Feb 2010 WriteOnSite Winning Entry
She didn't want to do it, but he could be very persuasive. He had those eyes, that long slender body, the look of a desert dweller. Exotic, that's what he was. The way he looked at her, with such open desire, as if he could eat her...
'Your face is so lovely, so luminous,' he told her, his voice low and liquid, bordering on the lustful, cupping her chin in his hand, gazing into her eyes. 'It is your duty to share its light with the world.'
She didn't want to share it with the world. She smiled, flattered. Her face did indeed light up, but it was only only for him. He was mesmerising, the miracle she had been waiting for.
'Those legs! So wonderful,' he whispered, his voice willowy, wild, so clearly wanting. 'They belong in magazines, on TV screens, on giant posters on the sides of the tallest and most majestic of buildings.' He ran his long lean fingers over her stockings, sliding, gliding gently upwards, sensuously, seductively, stopping just short of the top. His eyes gleamed, almost yellow under the spotlights.
She didn't want her legs plastered high on the side of tall buildings. She wanted them wrapped around him. Wanted his hungry hands to keep travelling up. Needed him.
'Those breasts! So big, so beautiful,' he breathed, his voice bubbling, beguiling, buried in the depths of her cleavage. 'You must release them, let them flow. They will bring pleasure to millions. Believe me, you have a future. A real future, in this game.'
She didn't want to play any game. Wanted only him. Wanted this to be real. Past, present, future. Only him.
'Come, my darling.' His hands slid beneath her lacy top, lifted it slowly over her head. Her skirt slithered to the ground at one pull on the long black snake-like zip.
'I can make you famous. Make you money. Make you a star.'
He reached for his camera, training the lens on her skin. Clicking, snapping, creeping, crawling. All over her. From over and under. From left and right. From outside and inside. Too crushing. Too close. Too intrusive. Too soon.
The flash dazzled her. Lights. Cameras. He didn't want her now. Never had. She saw it all in the light of the flashbulb. Tall buildings. Magazines. Centrefolds.
As she grabbed for her clothes, his face changed. Dropped. Distorted. She could have sworn, as she ran from the room, that she heard a desperate hiss and saw a layer of his slippery skin shed itself and fall amongst several others already there on the dusty studio floor.
Copyright © 2008 Rob Richardson. All Rights Reserved.