INT. HIS BATHROOM – EVENING
Tonya is wearing a cute turquoise dress and stripey socks. She pulls her panties down, lifts up her dress, and sits on the toilet. From the other side of the door comes muffled music and the unmistakable sound of a knife being sharpened. Tonya smiles to herself and pees.
INT. HIS KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER
Old, swampy blues music plays. Something simmers on the stove, and there are assorted vegetables and ingredients on the counter. He is sharpening a long, expensive chef’s knife with expert precision. There is the sound of a toilet flushing and sink running in the bathroom.
INT. HIS BATHROOM – MOMENTS LATER
TONYA
(turning off water, drying hands)
You knoooooow…Usually that’s not the sound a girl
wants to hear when she’s over at a guy’s house for
the first time and goes into the bathroom.
INT. HIS KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER
He stops sharpening and looks up with a bemused expression. The bathroom door opens, and he turns around at the sound with the knife in one hand and the sharpener in the other. Tonya is standing in the doorway. He puts down the sharpener and advances on her menacingly.
INT. HIS KITCHEN – LATE THAT NIGHT
Moonlight streams in the window, glinting off the handle of the same knife stuck in the top of the wooden table. Something reddish is smeared across the blade. The dress and her panties, obviously shredded, are in a pile on the floor. The ingredients haven’t been touched and whatever was in the pot on the stove is burned beyond recognition.
He stands naked at the sink, shown from behind, it’s unclear whether he’s washing something or washing his hands. When he turns off the water, faint moans and groans are heard. It’s impossible to tell if they’re painful or pleasurable. He turns around and pulls the knife out of the table roughly, then moves back out of frame.
HIM (off-camera)
Don’t worry, I’ve got more for you where that came
from. I wanted to make this one last, but something
about you makes me lose all self-control.
INT. HIS LIVING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Tonya is curled up naked on the couch half-covered by a fuzzy blanket, eating something out of a bowl and making mmmmm noises of appreciation. She takes a swig out of an almost-empty wine bottle, looks up and smiles.
He is standing in the door to the kitchen holding the knife and a pie with a couple slices out of it.
TONYA
I can’t believe you have that. I swear I thought
nobody else but me liked strawberry-rhubarb pie.
He moves toward her. Tonya throws a look at what he’s carrying and raises her eyebrows.
TONYA (cont.)
You forgot a bowl and spoon for yourself.
He dips the tip of the knife into the pie. Slowly and deliberately, he smears the pie-filling on Tonya’s nipple.
HIM
No, I didn’t.
Inside of sinews and bone, an adventure is unfolding, unfurling, revealing itself. I climb into the space between our words, waiting to be discovered. Wooing his demons, dancing around them, tempting them further and further into the open. Into the light.
I rest for a moment in the eye of the hurricane as he circles me, contemplating.
He’s a hunter on safari within his own mind, stalking monsters that live in the shadows, catching them one-by-one. But not to slay them, no; to try them on. To slip into their skins and inhabit their ferocity.
The mischievous glint in his eyes warns me a new creature is springing to life, taking shape inside him. I can’t help shivering at the slow curve of his savage smile. It’s slightly exciting, somewhat arousing, and completely terrifying.
I suspect this unknown animal has sharp teeth. Vicious claws that poke and scratch. A rough tongue and a menacing growl, along with the softest fur and a comforting purr. He considers me with crazed bloodlust, yet inflicts his sweet tortures with swiftly calculated precision, always holding something back. I can see the battle behind his eyes: does he trust me enough to let go? Does he trust himself?
I take a deep breath and let my body settle into position, back arched, bottom pushed up and out, inviting. I look at him over my shoulder, wordlessly giving him permission to let loose, praying he will unleash himself. Hoping today is the day I finally meet the beast.
Oh Portland, this is why I love you so. Saw most of the lunar eclipse last night, and then on the way home…
fire burning underneath
light expanding from heat
waiting, wanting
knowing
when it happens
it will be deliberate
When I am alone and far away, I close my eyes and imagine you here with me. You chuckled when I told you, months ago, that I was attempting to memorize your scent, the smell of you where neck meets shoulder, the place I like to bury my face when you make me blush. You didn’t know that even then I was preparing myself for this, cataloguing and filing away every detail, each sense memory.
When I am alone and far away, I am weak. I need. I want. I crave touch. Your hand resting on the nape of my neck, gently but firmly guiding me in public. Or your lips locked onto my nipple, eliciting a gasp that begs for more. Your teeth, your breath, warm and damp on my skin, whispering promises of sweet pain across my flesh. Your fingers, exploring and opening me, pressing a delicious rhythm into my wetness. Your eyes, laying me bare in a way no clothing could cover. My body, under yours, undulating and writhing and urging you faster, deeper, harder.
When I am alone and far away, I curl myself around these memories, clutching them tightly to my belly, letting them comfort me in empty rooms and strange cities. I re-live the first kiss, hand on my jaw, so deliberate, the feeling of being claimed for at least that moment. I savor the first orgasm again and again. Mine, yours, ours. I give myself another, in honor of you.
When I am alone and far away, I smile and flirt with strangers, knowing none of them are my size. I feel the lust rolling off of them and wait for it to crash against my shores. It flatters, and fails. Convince me you could own me, overpower me, I want to shout. Show me you know what you’re getting into, that you’re up for the challenge. I’m easy, but I’m not easy; why is that so difficult for them to grasp? It only took you a hand on my throat.
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