Genesis

She didn't understand when I brought you home. You, to her, were an infringement of trust and a fantasy come to exist in the horrifying flesh of the living. It was too real for her and she felt the cold fingers of anxiety trace along her neck, stinging her thighs and groin. She fidgeted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing hands and feet, rubbing sweaty palms along her dress.

Oh, you tried to make her feel comfortable. You told her jokes and made small talk. I opened a bottle of wine to take the edge off. Merlot, something Australian, with colorful kangaroos on the label.

The stereo cooed with jazz, soft raining piano notes falling on ivory, a pulsing sexual rhythm undertone like an orgy of thunder clouds. I dimmed the lights. But she retreated into herself. You tried to reason with her, everything was safe and she was in control. You emphasized 'control' as if she would feel power in the word and rise up like the goddess that she was and demand her subjects please her.

She smiled. The wine made her skin burn, her cheeks flush. I could see a slight glimmer take her eyes, an idea that bloomed into a resolution that bred confidence within her. The muscles in her neck tightened as I had seen them do so many times before while she stalked me throughout the apartment and finally pounced on me in the safe womb of our bedroom. The tigress awoke inside of her, now, and she would take her prey, you and I, and make lustful meals of us.

She rose, hands on her hips and a with a shameless smile painted upon her face, she said...

-Nosmo