Darkness surrounds her heart of captured pain.
Why did she do this? What was she thinking? Maybe it was that she was NOT thinking at all.
She saw him one day and he seemed to be the answer to her longing for passion.
In a “greasy spoon” of all places! Even the waitress wore a greasy smile.
Something about the way he sat, and ate his food.
It drew her in emotionally as she sat from a far watching in secret from the corner of her plotting eye. He was NO pretty boy. That’s for sure, but he echoed with brute strength. A beast of a man.
She twisted her wedding band off and slipped it into her tight pocket.
It was her turn to be the hunter, and she was going to catch her prey. Following him out the door and to the lot where his motor bike sat parked.
A few words from the mouth of a red headed woman filled with desire, and the well built brute was hers for the asking.
But lust came with a price. WHORE. the word ran threw her mind over and over again, even after he was long gone. Whore! Slut! How could you? Water would not wash the stain of her flirting eyes from her face. It is All HIS fault! Playing the blame game are we? He doesn’t care. If he cared, this would NEVER had happened. Convinced at last. It’s all his fault. Leather purse tossed over the shoulders. Off to start a new day.
These Images and Writings Do Not Belong To ANY Public Domain. All images and Writing are copyright © Patricia Anne McCarty & Deep Red Tiger Images 2009. All Rights Reserved. Copying, altering, displaying or redistribution of any of these images or Writings without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.