fff#31: empress diablesse burlesque
didn't post a new trigger las' friday 'cause i took divali off; will have one up this week. my fff#31 is a little bit of a cheat but i wukkin' on this piece for a performance monthend and needed to build the text so i can choreograph. still used flash fiction friday #31 (indirect inclusion) trigger, jus' also incorporated slightly-revised pre-existing txt (although, from an other fff, so 'low me, nah...walk good): egg(s), witch, cave.
she wraps her locks. her lush oiled perfumed hair is for his consumption, his nostrils alone. he will bury his face in her oiled perfumed hair as she consumes him. he will want to be eaten…
she carefully lifts the right side of her skirt hem to manoeuvre the muddy track. he offers her a jockeyback when he sees the delicate foot so dangerously close to wet sinking earth, and she smiles directly into his eyes this time, his reward for being easily coaxed. he still grinning back foolishly when her cheek brushes his, leaning over his shoulder close enough for a whiff of perfumed locks through the cloth keeping her hair tantalisingly from him. he doesn’t carry her far enough to notice the steadily increasing weight on his back.
she slides off as nimbly as she got on, by the time he turn she already settling her skirt around her. all he ever see is smooth brown arms+face+neck and up to the arch of her right foot, but he cyah stop thinking ‘bout long long legs under the volume of material swirling round her every step. he wonders if she wears these clothes on purpose, jus’ to make him wonder, imagine wha’ hiding underneath...
later he dreams her, long long legs and perfumed locks spread for him alone…sees her in his bed, his life, his home, sees her bear and raise his son before they even spend a night, so bewitched he cyah see himself falling into the grave she diggin’, so bedevilled he cyah smell the ram goat under the perfume, he will follow her into the emptiness.
he tells his mother about this empress, wife, soulmate, and she intuits danger, but even her suspicions underestimate the darkness.
she carefully lifts the right side of her skirt hem to manoeuvre the muddy track. he offers her a jockeyback when he sees the delicate foot so dangerously close to wet sinking earth, and she smiles directly into his eyes this time, his reward for being easily coaxed. he still grinning back foolishly when her cheek brushes his, leaning over his shoulder close enough for a whiff of perfumed locks through the cloth keeping her hair tantalisingly from him. he doesn’t carry her far enough to notice the steadily increasing weight on his back.
she slides off as nimbly as she got on, by the time he turn she already settling her skirt around her. all he ever see is smooth brown arms+face+neck and up to the arch of her right foot, but he cyah stop thinking ‘bout long long legs under the volume of material swirling round her every step. he wonders if she wears these clothes on purpose, jus’ to make him wonder, imagine wha’ hiding underneath...
later he dreams her, long long legs and perfumed locks spread for him alone…sees her in his bed, his life, his home, sees her bear and raise his son before they even spend a night, so bewitched he cyah see himself falling into the grave she diggin’, so bedevilled he cyah smell the ram goat under the perfume, he will follow her into the emptiness.
he tells his mother about this empress, wife, soulmate, and she intuits danger, but even her suspicions underestimate the darkness.
posted by sweet trini @ 5:21 pm
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