Her Soft Spot


Lying there with her eyes closed, she lifts her skirt higher and higher, and although the asphalt burns the skin of her buttocks, she can’t help but give in to temptation. Baring those pearly whites, she tastes electricity, and as she flickers in and out of existence, the watchful eyes of the animals widen in surprise. They’re hiding in the undergrowth by the side of the road. They knew she was coming ever since she woke in the cemetery and have been secretly following her ever since. Gasping for air, X spits out a mouthful of phlegm, but before it can land, it evaporates in the gaze of the sun. Flickering as she does, she’s chasing past versions of herself, and versions of lovers now gone, and for a moment as she pinches her soft spot and digs the soles of her feet into the melting asphalt, she would later swear blind she’d travelled to another time and place. If anyone would have asked the animals, and if those asking the questions knew what language to speak, they would’ve been told it was true. She had disappeared. One minute she was there with her skirt pulled up to her waist and her right hand working its magic, and then she was gone. In one breath she was squeezing her eyes as tight as she possibly could, and then the road was empty save for two silver ballerina pumps. There’s no telling where she went. She’d never tell even if you asked, but when she came back and was lying there with her arms above her head, the breathless smile on her face would suggest it was somewhere most pleasant. With her breathing returning to normal, it takes several seconds before she comes to her senses and pulls down her skirt. Getting to her feet, she wipes the sweat from her face and looks around. In the bushes next to the road, she hears a slight rustle, and then the snapping of a twig. Silly animals. Sliding her shoes on, she walks over and peers into the darkness between the leaves and flowers. Such little perverts you all are! And although the animals blush and shake their heads, they can’t deny they hadn’t been enchanted by what they’d seen.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US

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