...

Ryan straightened his tie, and gazed into the eyes of the woman sitting across the table,  someone he met at the bar earlier. A pair of deep-set cat’s eyes, their light-coloured pupils radiating mystery. She possessed the flawless porcelain skin that usually accompanied such eyes. Luscious raven hair framed her heart-shaped face, contrasting her pale skin, and drawing attention to her full lips. Lips that pouted now, as her soft toes played footsie under the table on his tingling skin. 

The night had progressed just as he had imagined. He could visualize her on his bed, her body blending into the sheets, her locks spread under her on the vintage pillowcase, his gaze holding hers. With those eyes! A low moan escaped him.

He gulped the last of the wine and paid. They left together, his hands below her back, while she clung to him. He could feel the eyes of all the men present in the restaurant. The women too. He relished the feeling. Just like he was going to relish the night. 

The lift was empty. She turned to him, passion thickening her dulcet tones, and murmured, “Your place or mine?”

“Mine. Don’t you stay with a roommate?” 

“Mmm..,” she conveyed her acceptance by nibbling his ears. He quivered with barely concealed pleasure.

They soon reached his house, a single storey in the suburbs. Now it was his turn to be impatient. As she bent to fix her sandal strap at the threshold, he almost snapped, “Come in.” She followed, her sultry looks turning him on.

“Let me fix you a drink,” Ryan said. Soon they were on the couch, hands all over each other. Slowly her movements lost their sharpness and she slumped. 

When she came to, she lay on a bed, her hands manacled to the head board, her mouth gagged. The room was decorated in red, other than the sheets and pillows which were a pristine white. A mirror in front of the bed gave the illusion of space and made the room look bigger than it was. A low table to the side was groaning with the weight of various shiny steel blades in a tray and formalin filled jars. The jars held something round and bulbous. She realized they were eyes. Human eyes.

Ryan came and straddled her, a wicked looking knife in his hands. Her eyes widened with alarm and he grinned, hair disheveled, eyes wild.

“I have many eyes with me, but nothing can compare to yours. They are captivating. They would be my prized possessions. Forever.”

He leaned in.

She flexed her hands and the manacles snapped. Ryan slashed at her in shocked amazement. The skin at her throat parted but no blood flowed. In one smooth move, she sat up and had Ryan pinned under her arms, cool as marble. Ryan whimpered, “How?”

She turned his head to the reflection in the mirror for an answer. 

Only one was visible. His.

 

****

 

Pic credit: Katerina Holmes from Pexels.com


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