Those Eyes: A Fantasy

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment,” she says, smiling seductively as I make myself comfortable on her sofa. She begins to undo the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse, exposing the delicate lace hidden beneath. “A very long time.”

Of course she has. I know she wants me. They all do. I’m a good-looking guy. We’ve worked side by side all these long months. I toyed with her at first. Who wouldn’t? She’s exquisite. Her streaming raven hair frames a face blessed with absolutely perfect features. But her eyes – those piercing black-brown eyes – overwhelm your senses. They pull you into their liquid depths, threatening to drown out every desire but hers.

And who needs that? So I dumped her. It’s not as if there wasn’t plenty out there to choose from. In my business, beautiful women are everywhere. Most of them are like me. We know life’s short and opportunities are fleeting. We usually agree to have a good time, kiss good-bye and move on. But not her. She was always watching.

She approaches me now and leans over my reclining form, allowing the blouse to slip off her shoulder. I swallow the icy champagne she hands me, noticing the contrast between the light bubbly wine and the dark, exotic woman speaking to me now.

“The anticipation has been so sweet. Now that it’s about to end, I’m almost sorry,” she says.

Suddenly she snatches the empty glass from my hand and flings it passionately against the wall, where it shatters it into a million pieces. I close my eyes and everything goes black.

And then, of course, comes the applause. A roaring chorus from the audience as I hold my position a little longer for dramatic effect. It’s closing night and I can tell that we’ve given our best performance. And it’s none too soon for me. I can’t wait to be rid of her. All these months of pretending have taken their toll on me. I’d planned for us to have one parting fling at the cast party, but now I’m not so sure I’m up to it. In fact, I’m starting to feel pretty dammed odd. What was in that glass anyway?

She leans over me and whispers so no one else can hear, “Actually, I’m not sorry at all.” My eyes spring open for one last time and I look into the mad, inky depths before me. Then it all fades away.