A marquee in the garden.
An overseas call.
Choosing paintings for the new boardroom.
A lawyer...a marital lawyer no less: no evidence your honour.
He wants me.
Desires me.
Filthy, dirty fantasy.
It's me
and me
and me.
High heels and cameras.
Cherry lube
Soon, to slide in again...soon...
What's his name?
Not sure, your honour: no evidence your honour.
Do you care?
No your Honour.
Not at all.
It's part of the hit.
Part of the high.
Part of the kick.
The darkness of his eyes will soon linger again over me, wanting me, directing me...
I will ooze, melt, visibly...a section of my mind: fed.
My body sated.
My mind slowed, until the sharp escape of Troiseme Etage filters in, sharply and searingly.
Mirrors reflecting
Mind seeing,
Mind wanting.
Wanting.
Wanting more mirrors of mind.
