The moon smiles its Cheshire Cat smile tonight
It’ll laugh a madman’s laugh tomorrow.
Her skin is warm and pale underneath her white cotton blouse. Yellow-orange-gold streetlight gleams off pearly buttons. Two are on the pavement behind us, some are lost in the grass beneath us, some are holding on by their threads. She liked it rough, she said to me earlier in the pub. Rough, and maybe a little strange. Between half a dozen beers, she asked me if I’m too much of a gentleman to be rough. I shook my head, no.
I can be strange, too.
Follow Mr. Rabbit down a long way, that way—
The deep dark damp way
The delightful dreadful dreamway
Where we all ought to go.
Should I take her somewhere else? But I have the grounds to myself—ourselves—tonight and every night. Gate keys are in my pocket, the park bears my name, the guards shall ask no questions.
I take in the sumptuous sight of her, lying on the grass like this. Her arms spread on either side, like delicate wings. Her chest, her breasts, are exposed to the cold midnight air. I bend lower and bury my nose in her hair. Shampoo, sweat, cigarette smoke. My ear is close to her mouth now, and her whimpering is exciting me. Her face is a mask of fear and tears. She is spread-eagled; her wrists and ankles are red against the roughly-made ropes. The duct tape sealing her lips rises with her every exhalation.
There is a flash that is the light bouncing off a blade. There is a rip that is a skirt coming apart. A hand that is mine caresses a thigh that is straining to be free.
***This is a work in progress.