The rough rubbing of the metal file against her nail was the only sound that reverberated through the dark ominous night. Setting down the thin, cold, silver slab of metal on the coffee table, she admired the work that she had done. Each nail was trimmed and filed into deadly perfection, triangular in shape, sharp as a needle at the tip of each. They were too beautiful; she had to try it out. Bringing out her left forearm, she dug the nails of her right hand into it, producing a dark scarlet liquid that trickled down her porcelain skin. A wry smile formed on her lips as she licked the blood off her arm, making no attempt patch up the four cuts she so willingly did herself.
Perfect.
~*~
In the silence of darkness he slept tangled in white sheets, gradually spiraling into deep slumber. He slowly opened his eyes to an unfamiliar place, aware that he was dreaming in some part of his consciousness. A multitude of topless burlesques filled the room, dancing, colliding, enticing. The heat emanating from their bodies increased insatiable lust as skin caressed skin and nails scratched raw flesh. He indulged in this pleasure that devoured his senses and pulled close a striking young naked woman nearby that danced engagingly to him. She willingly let him guide her to a canopy four-poster bed that was in close proximity, its pillows and sheets covered in blood red velvet. He lied down and felt the fabric graze against his bare back as the woman straddled him, their hips locked in place. His hands made its way to her waist as he readied himself to succumb into uncontrollable release and closed his eyes.
Funny, he thought, how realistic it all was. He could actually feel her weight against him. And his hands... it could sense the slimness of her waist as he stroked her sides. Slowly, his eyes opened to see the bare beauty once more but were only met by the darkness of his bedroom. He very well knew that he wasn’t dreaming anymore…for what he saw before him could no longer be just a fabrication weaved by his subconscious mind.
He caught his breath as a sinister figure loomed over him in the shadows, straddling him just the way the stripped erotic burlesque in his dreams did. He could only see the outline of the body that mounted him, for the pale moonlight shone dimly through the newly opened window. It was a woman. His heart beat madly as he saw the intruder bring out her hand, deadly black nails gleaming in the milky moonlight, and placed the tip of each at his neck. A smile formed on the prowler’s lips, her teeth glinting as bright as the mischievous Cheshire cat’s grin. She bent down to whisper ever so softly in his ear.
“Hey, you.”
Perfect.
~*~
In the silence of darkness he slept tangled in white sheets, gradually spiraling into deep slumber. He slowly opened his eyes to an unfamiliar place, aware that he was dreaming in some part of his consciousness. A multitude of topless burlesques filled the room, dancing, colliding, enticing. The heat emanating from their bodies increased insatiable lust as skin caressed skin and nails scratched raw flesh. He indulged in this pleasure that devoured his senses and pulled close a striking young naked woman nearby that danced engagingly to him. She willingly let him guide her to a canopy four-poster bed that was in close proximity, its pillows and sheets covered in blood red velvet. He lied down and felt the fabric graze against his bare back as the woman straddled him, their hips locked in place. His hands made its way to her waist as he readied himself to succumb into uncontrollable release and closed his eyes.
Funny, he thought, how realistic it all was. He could actually feel her weight against him. And his hands... it could sense the slimness of her waist as he stroked her sides. Slowly, his eyes opened to see the bare beauty once more but were only met by the darkness of his bedroom. He very well knew that he wasn’t dreaming anymore…for what he saw before him could no longer be just a fabrication weaved by his subconscious mind.
He caught his breath as a sinister figure loomed over him in the shadows, straddling him just the way the stripped erotic burlesque in his dreams did. He could only see the outline of the body that mounted him, for the pale moonlight shone dimly through the newly opened window. It was a woman. His heart beat madly as he saw the intruder bring out her hand, deadly black nails gleaming in the milky moonlight, and placed the tip of each at his neck. A smile formed on the prowler’s lips, her teeth glinting as bright as the mischievous Cheshire cat’s grin. She bent down to whisper ever so softly in his ear.
“Hey, you.”
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