The damp, underground bar was near the Cathedral of Holy Wisdom in Polotsk. I’d entered to escape the downpour that lashed the streets. I smelt his musk before I saw him; I felt aroused, compelled and revolted. He barked, ‘Come.’ My secret lips moistened. His hairy arm circled my hips; he led me through dusty tapestry curtains to a secluded chamber, furnished with a cushioned couch. His eyes glinted; his sharp, selenite teeth beguiled me. I lay down and he reclined alongside me. I arched my back as he girdled me with a wolfskin belt. Appropriated and metamorphosed, I surrendered.
Jim Bartlett
27/8/2018 11:03:14 pm
Very descriptive, sort of gritty. And naughty ;-) Comments are closed.
|
"Classic"
|