The fireplace crackled with ardent fury, and its rage filled cry for recognition echoed throughout my one room apartment, that looked as though it belonged in the time of Amadeus Mozart rather than the 21st century. The dim and slightly macabre yellow light emanating from the raging flames danced a ghastly dance akin to the dance of corpses controlled by puppet strings as the flames lit the trophies I had kept of the souls who had felt the cold touch of my deft seducer’s hand. The hollow faces stared at me with a cold and blank hatred. All the women whose lives I had destroyed surrounded me, slowly devouring me like ravenous hyenas maddened with grief. I sat upon my black leather recliner, reading my war-torn copy of “Paradise Lost.” its hardbound surface riddled with dust, as it seemed to be filled with endless desire to show its age, as is true of an old man’s wrinkled, weathered, leathery face. Suddenly, the steady beating the rainstorm that had been previously unceasing was interrupted by an even greater natural force of raw emotion; a gust of wind howled like a European maiden being slowly gripped by crucible, whilst being accused of unspeakable evils. The echoes of the wind cried in staunch denial of its crimes. Beneath the fury, I heard the faint sound of a woman whimpering. Content to ignore it, and keep to myself, I told myself it was simply the echoes of hatred that cry out from within my shattered soul. However, I heard it once more… she was outside my door, and a brief second later she knocked.
I begrudgingly rose to answer the door. Upon opening it, my eyes were delighted to see a woman of about 19, slender in figure and wearing a black satin dress that seemed to match the infinite opaque and palpable, despair riddled darkness that enveloped that particular night. The dress hugged her every curve perfectly and without flaw. She asked me if she could use the phone.
“Sure.” I replied, “It’s a fucked up night out there.”
She crossed the threshold, and as she stepped into the nearly lifeless golden light that enveloped the room, I noticed perfect porcelain skin. Her lips were nearly blood red, and thick with desire. Let me put it this way, if you thought Angelina Jolie’s lips were kissable, these made hers look like thin strips of pinkish beef jerky, subjected to years of prodding by needles and torture via collagen injections. As she walked further into the room, I felt myself fill with a nervous excitement. Who was this woman, and why was she so damned perfect? More importantly, why was she here? Was this some cruel trick of fate, taunting me for all the wrong I’ve done? I couldn’t be sure. What I did know however, was that this woman needed help. So did I. If she didn’t get what she needed, and leave soon, I suspected that we would both be something we would regret… I was certain that I would at least.
I showed her to the small bedroom area where my phone was kept, and I waited for her in the living room space adjacent to the kitchen. She seemed to be talking to a man, her boyfriend perhaps. With each passing second, her voice became shriller and pointed… accented with a sort of melancholic anger, replacing the melodic whimsical tone that had existed at the start of her conversation. Every word she spoke was fraught with negative emotion, and the tension was driving me mad. It also filled me with excitement that I had not felt since my last escapade. I swore to myself I’d never do such a thing again. The last woman I was with killed herself abruptly and seemingly without cause; I knew why she did though, she had found out that I was a twisted emotional sadist who used my insight into the human spirit and psyche to fill a bottomless pit, leaving countless women in my twisted wake. I loved her, yet that night, there was no redemption for me… I was dead, and would never again be raised to walk among the precious living.
This woman, this seemingly frail yet deviant temptress had entered into the layer of a poisonous spider, and yet was not afraid. She didn’t even blink at the pictures of countless women that have come to walk these very same spaces before her. She slammed the phone in a fit of rage, and yet after a few seconds, she came out displaying an eerie calm, with a hint of quiet yearning in her eyes. She sat herself across from me on my coffee table, and remarked that Paradise lost had once been her favorite piece of literature, but that she could no longer respect it, because after what happened tonight, she knew that evil was beyond redemption, and in fact, it was a completely different kind of nature that was totally contradictory to that of humankind. What the fuck was she talking about? Was this another whiny teenage girl who was just caught up in the angst of young with all its torrential emotions, and innumerable imperfections and instabilities? No, there was something different about her. I was sure. She exuded a seductive charisma and, it was as if the emotion she had felt only an hour ago had all but disappeared while discussing literature with my tortured ass. There was something different on her mind. She finally commented on all the dead stares that surrounded us, I guess her exact words were “so what’s up with all the naked chicks on your walls?” But the way I said it sounded more eloquent, don’t you think? She asked me if I had bedded them all, and I replied that I had indeed bedded all 70 women. Her eyes widened with surprise, and filled with a tinge of excitement. I knew what she wanted, but I promised myself she wouldn’t get it. Not for me, and not here. I would not ruin another young life. She asked me about each and every picture, the story behind the meaningless photos that haunted me daily. However jaded I might’ve been, I indulged her curiosity and we talked for hours. She told me stories of her own; of the men she attempted to seduce as she made her way across the country… she paid for nothing, and lived on her wits and guile alone.
For what seems like one long, contiguous moment, I had forgotten that there were such things as clocks and time. For once, I had found a kindred spirit, someone who was not disgusted by my polyamorous ways, but rather intrigued by stories of my technique. Of how I would make a woman feel as though she was the only thing that existed in the entire universe and my sole purpose for existing was merely to fall at her feet in service of her every desire. Tales of how these women had found no purpose in life other than to be with me, and once I had been there, I cut them off completely. Moving on simply in my mind, to maximize the efficiency with which I completed my evolutionary imperative; to propagate the species, and preserve my genes through the potential existence of future generations of my bloodline. That had been all I cared about.
The conversation took an abrupt turn, and she asked the question that no woman had ever bothered to ask me before. It was as if she could see into my shattered heart, and she knew without a doubt, that I was in utter disrepair. The question was simple:
“Don’t you ever feel lonely? Don’t you ever wish that someone would stay with you and love you unconditionally?”
To be honest, for all my bullshit philosophical inquiries, and supposedly deep thinking that had been lauded by the many that came before her, I never considered the reality of my own loneliness. I thought for a long moment, the gears in my head turning, and my face forming into an expression of twisted agony as I came to the realization that I felt truly alone. The truth was yes, I wish every day that I could change what I was, and that someone would love me unconditionally, and I, being worthy of that love, would reciprocate it gladly.
With that, she lunged forward and planted herself on top of me, staring with a piercing, fiery, yet extremely vulnerable gaze, which seemed to leave me defenseless. My hands instinctively reached for the zipper of her dress and expertly unleashed a silky soft back there was 1000 times softer than any satin dress could’ve been. She slid out of the dress effortlessly, revealing she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. She grinded against me, arching her back slowly, and as she did, the excitement of my Aries point welled within me, we embraced in a torrent of passionate sexual fury, like a tornado whose path was seemingly unclear. Blind with a raging passion, we eventually made our way to my bed. I picked her up and we both fell to the bed, my head buried deeply in her pleasure center. As my tongue swirled inside of her, it tasted sweet… unexpectedly so, and her juices gushed forth, as if I had just bitten in to the ripest of strawberries fresh after harvest.
She moaned with pleasure, and slowly I felt a smile creep onto my face as my tongue receded, and I quickly began to contemplate all the things we could do to each other. Looking deep into her eyes, I knew she wanted me to take her. But she wouldn’t get that wish, not yet; she had to earn it. I flipped her over, placed her across my knee and spanked her hard. She squealed politely as if she was feeling pain only to satisfy my own sadistic pleasures, but she chuckled a with a devious delight as a smile flew across her face as quickly as my hand had repeatedly met her ass. She picked herself up to a standing position, and tackled me. She straddled me, removing what little resistance remained in the way of clothing, and bid my Aries to enter her sacred Temple of Venus. She motioned with her pelvis, slowly bringing me to a full, hard, complete erection. She slapped me across the face when she saw that my anger had completely been vanquished, replaced by sheer pleasure, and a brief flash of rage enabled me to turn the tables.
She lay beneath me, smiling as she knew things were about to get fun. I turned her around and entered her from behind, and with a bit of rage, I grabbed her hair and pulled, as if punishing her for taking my dominance away from me, as if making a statement that I was the one in power, and not her. She welcomed it gladly. Allowing me to again mount her, she wrapped her arms around the back of my neck, and pulled me toward her chest, suffocating in her succulent breasts and moaning with delight, I entered her deeper. She again of course was facing me on the bottom, and with what seemed like an expert jujitsu move, she swept with her legs, flipped me around and was again in the dominant position. This time, I wouldn’t fight it.
She dug her nails into me, and drew blood as I thrusted deeper into her. I felt the hot red liquid dripping down my back she knelt upward, and licked it with pleasure. She understood my pain. She knew it was a path to my pleasure, and she was indulging every whim that I had, without my speaking a single word. We were bonded through some fucked up mystically sexual bond that I had never experienced. I bit gleefully into the small pocket of flesh just above the breast, and blood trickled from it slowly. I devoured it with a twisted sense of pleasure, and in an almost spiritual sense of gratitude. The salty sweet taste of her blood excited me further. My member was now ready to explode, and my molten swirl of manly lava could no longer be contained. I released myself inside of her, and in that instant time froze. I saw the entirety of the causal chain that had forever shattered my putrid soul. I felt the love of all the women I had ever hurt, the desperation, anger and sadness they felt as I crushed their hearts completely. At that very moment, I was completely vulnerable. And then, something happened, and the melodic voice of the woman whose temple I felt I was defiling rang in my head. She spoke to me thus:
“I lied to you when I came here, in a way. I don’t need anything from you. And I desire nothing but to give you what you’ve prayed for. You have atoned for your crimes in this moment, because in your rage, you have found love… Your soul has been shattered and you have seen your own faults with a godlike clarity. You can now be whole. I told you that evil could never be redeemed, that was my egregious lie. You see, without evil in the hearts of men, good would neither be recognized, nor would it ever take root.”
For what seems like forever, my mind was shocked and in utter disbelief. This reluctant conquest had been my salvation, and it was because of her that I would always know the feeling of true love. A broken Angel came to me, and in her brokenness she saved me. I will always remember you, the woman who came to me seemingly on the whim of Satan’s call, under the veil of darkness you saved me, and through me, you may have saved us all.