Her skin is flawless alabaster, smooth and cool to the touch. Her cheeks pale, expect for the slightest hint of pink flushing the apples beneath her clear crystalline eyes, which are generously framed by long, doe-like brown lashes. Honey coloured waves hug her perfectly proportioned shoulders and cascade down her back to her narrow waist. My fingertips softly brush some hair back from her collarbone, exposing the curve of her upturned breast, her nipple the palest shade of pink. A defined line runs between her breasts down to her navel, marking the place where her hips begin to swell into a pleasing figure 8. My eyes take in her flat stomach, smooth all the way to the tempting V where her thighs meet in a coy cross.
Emilia remains still, unblinking; the perfect woman… My perfect woman.
I have loved her since the first time I saw her as I passed the store one day. Her immaculate, unblemished skin all but stole the breath from my lungs. Once I started working there, I noticed how her silent tranquility filled any room she was in. I knew then I had to have her. I had to make her mine.
I had waited in the toilets after closing time, until I was sure everyone had left the building – we are alone, Emilia and I. I have the car ready beside the fire exit, complete with a soft blanket to shield her naked skin and keep her warm. Soon she will lie next to me and my arms will be her protection from any chill. I plan to bathe her in scented oils, wash her long golden curls and tuck her in to her new bed. She will never want for anything ever again. I will make her happy, as she will make me.
“Come, my angel,” I whisper in her ear, resisting the urge to recoil from her slightly dusty scent, and lift her. She is feather light but stiff in my arms, her limbs unyielding, but I manage to transport her from the storeroom and through the department store to the exit leading to the back alley. I care nothing about the security cameras following me – from this moment I have no intention of ever returning to this place. I will have no need to, now that Emilia and I are to be together.
A grunt escapes me as I struggle to position her in the passenger seat of my car; I must help her bend her knees to fit. My good, wonderful Emilia, as compliant as she can be, given her limits. Wrapping the cashmere blanket around her, I pause and allow my lips to barely caress her elegantly chiseled cheek bone as I fasten her seat belt, “Now, my angel, it will be just the two of us soon.”
Pulling out from the curb I reach over and take her small, rigid hand in mine, and squeeze. The fiberglass is cold and unyielding. A wide smile brightens my face. My Emilia will always be beautiful. She will never age or wither, never tire of me, never resist me.
She is eternal.
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