Eyes: Two Dark Tales

1.)

Enigmas peer through slitted lids. What back alley did you purchase those? I peer into your brown-jade orbs and wonder. What walks blind while you gaze unto this world like no other man has or perhaps should?

"Baby you shine!" You grin at me. Those lid slitted mysteries follow the line of my figure. "Something about your smooth skin ... It's mesmerizing ..." So lusty they look as your brows knit and lines crease from the corners of your sockets. You look like you haven't slept in a while. Big dark circles cast your new eyes in a gothic relief of late nights and possible activities. Lust does not hide tired well. I wonder again.

"Love, you know I do as I do." You say when you notice my mind working. I usually respect your mysteries, but you know how my mind works, how my soul obsesses over the minute. These are too much for my usual boundaries. "You must understand, Love, I was born with these, and now they are back."

Born with them?

The gears of my brain wind up and click toward a possible explanation for this new turn in you. You were always a mystery, but one does not expect the mystery to lead to some sort of inhumanity.

"How?" is all I can say. "Are you not human?"

You stare at me from the shadows of my dank apartment and offer me no answers. You merely gives me a smile that suggests a sort of exotic inhumanity. I take a step back away from you, not realizing the instinctual fear reaction in my body.

Did I already know this lay behind your veil? When we first met that night and you staggered into my shop hungry and ferociously angry with the look of a man not sure of what he was anymore, did I know then? In fear, I gave you food and you just stared at it with a wild expression and howled in rage. The hungry look you gave me ... Just what is it you once were ...?

You follow me and lurch at me grabbing my wrist. I try pulling away from you but you twist my back into your front and hold me firmly, your chin resting against my cheek. Your skin burns hot and is slick with sweat. "Relax" you breath into my face, some sort of paralyzing agent, and then slowly turn me around to face you. You fix me a familiar gaze made queer with those strange eyes lined in dark circles and lust. No, those eyes may be alien but you are a man still, no matter what you become.

"You were never much of a human, were you?" I struggle to whisper in a hoarse voice as your burning hot mouth suckles on my neck. You lift your head to my ear, remove some of my thick coils of hair and grunt "Never much of your kind at all." You thrust me onto the ground and sink your teeth into my neck. I feel my vision fade and my mind go hazy. You bring your blood stained lips around to my face and begin to paint it red with your kisses. The whys of how you became a man and found your way into my life and what exactly you are, are easily silenced by the heaviness of your breathing and the tenderness of your kisses on my skin. My paralyzed face locked onto you can already see the scales starting to form on your skin. I stare into your eyes and let those browns absorb me, browns mixed with a little jade.

What you do to me afterward is something for the police to find and shudder over.


2.)

"Don't look into his eyes!"

"Why?"

"They'll eat you!"

We laugh at the thought and grasp each others hands tightly before running onto the fair ride. I was suppose to meet him tonight, but he canceled and let me use his ticket to bring my best friend. I could say she was more than my best friend, but in this world that could get you terminated. I let the pleasures of our joy take over my mind and spend the next few hours in a peaceful bliss.

"What do you have against his eyes?" I ask her later, sitting on a bench in the dark under the bright full moon.

"Don't you see what I see? No of course you wouldn't. You're smitten."

I am stung by that and am quiet for a while. How did I expect her to take all of this. "What do you see?" I ask, letting a little of my ire through in the tone of my voice. Her eyes go wide in the glare making her gaze a little frightening. I sense her vulnerability and pull her to me. "Now tell me," I say more gently "what do you see?"

"He wants you so hard and so much. His eyes betray that. He looks at me as if he knows what we do. When his eyes catch mines I always get a feeling that he knows and he approves and he wants. Ugh! I cannot stand them and I try not to stare into them."

"How would he know about us? If he knew he would only betray us and we would be terminated. He is the only one that keeping us together. As long as I have him, everyone can look at our friendship as only just a friendship." I stroke her forehead and trace my fingers down to her neck. Her pulse beats wildly under my fingers.

"He may not know, but his eyes know!" She turns her head up to stare at me. Her eyes tell me of her fear of losing me to my obligation and sense of self preservation. Her eyes scream at me to stay with her, for being attached to a man and being her friend frees her from having to do the same thing. But if I let her go ... If I tell on her ... I pull her up into my arms, hug her tightly and kiss her hard to reassure her that never would she have to suffer that fate. Not by my hand.

She thinks me smitten with him, but the truth is worse. He truly does know about us. He spied me laying with her once. Now he is blackmailing me. It is either our deaths or I let him watch us. He is out there in the trees right now, watching us, my kisses and my touches and her sighs. He perverts the beauty of my time with her. As an addendum, I must let him savage me, throwing everything we have together into my face before spraying his foul seed all over me. For this world to think what it does to those of our kind is a good thing, is a terrible fallacy. It only creates manipulative monsters like him. When I stare into his eyes I only see that which is perverted. I can hear his laugh later when he teases about how my tongue must taste like her pussy.

If I told her ... would she leave me, would she kill herself? How much longer can I keep doing this to myself, to us? I think of the gas chambers and the experiments and settle my soul that things could be worse than voyeurism and rape. I steel my soul. Tonight with her was perfect and rather live like this than be dead.

I kiss her face. It is because of him that we can enjoy these nights free and open without a care, no matter how terrible the deal is. I grasp her tightly again and pull off her shirt. I shiver knowing he is watching and enjoying this with those eyes of his. I know he is enveloped in pleasure watching me as I devour her nipples, her sex, and the shudder of her orgasm. I muse to myself that perhaps one day I will puck out those awful eyes and together, her and I, we will eat them. He can live this world as a blind man with a lesbian wife and never be able to harm us again.

Tomorrow when you have me ... Just maybe ...