Such a Special Couple

Such a Special Couple was originally published in Alison Tyler’s J is for Jealousy then later selected for inclusion in Maxim Jakubowski’s Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 9. Here, my narrator has just discovered erotic photographs of her boyfriend and his ex, Jasmine, in a room in his apartment she isn’t supposed to enter. Sean, the boyfriend, is away and the room contains some of Jasmine’s possessions, draped in white sheets while the room is being decorated. Hanging from the ceiling is a glass crystal pendant, the last vestige of Sean and Jasmine’s tender times together.

*

Their porn was so pretty. Taking photographs in bed was obviously something they did together. I guess a lot of couples do but getting them developed is special. And there they were, such a special couple in sepia, black and white, in soft light and shadow, this way and that, over, under, above, below, naked, dressed, roped, cuffed, kissing, fucking, looking. So much looking. The two of them together. Looking and loving. Loving each other, the curve of his freckled shoulders, the dip of her waist, that faint sheen of skin. Loving the bliss of their togetherness.

Because it wasn’t really porn. It wasn’t cold and empty enough. Unfortunately, neither was I. Her skin looked so good and inviting, so alive. I could imagine running a blade down her back, a slow, cruel knife point to destroy the picture.

After an hour or so the light was dipping. At this time of year, the sunsets are pinkish and the city, slanted with long shadows, is washed with palest shrimp. There were no curtains at the window and I saw distant starlings flocking and swooping, making crazy black shapes in the sky.

I was surrounded by photographs. Initially, I’d thought if I looked at them for long enough, I could make them fade to nothing. Now I was thinking if I stared a little harder I could make them burst into flames. Either way, I would obliterate her.

The most difficult pictures were of Sean in chains. Yes, that’s right. My big, beautiful, dirty-talking brute could lie face-forward on a bed, arms outstretched, his shackled ankles being pulled towards his ass. He could lie like that, metal links running parallel to his spine, the hand that held the chain covering his head in a claw of possession. And he could lie there looking peaceful and zonked, eyes lowered and smiling with bliss, letting her do what she wished.

That was not my Sean.

So Sean wasn’t mine.

Beyond the window, the lights of the city were coming on, dotting the smudgy dusk.

Photographs aren’t real, I tried telling myself. You don’t click a camera at the truest moments. But that smile was real. I’d never seen him look that way before. And how I hated her that she could give him that.

When I ran out of hate and came up for air, it was almost night. Shadows greyed the draped white room and I was surrounded by colors bleeding into the dusk, a watery paintbox of chrome yellow, madder rose, prussian blue, hooker green, cobalt, ochre, sienna and all the shades of skin in black, white and sepia.

I sat in a blur of tears, scorched with jealousy and with the shame of my binge. I should have just fed the cat and left. Too late. I’d opened the door. All too late.

I blinked away the tears and the room re-focussed. Like I say, it was dark by then so there was no sunlight glittering on the suspended crystal. Nonetheless, high on the far wall, glowing gently in the gloom, was the projected rainbow.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.

It wasn’t possible. I knew it wasn’t. But there it was. I saw all the colors of their past condensed in that little rainbow. I couldn’t help thinking it was my fault, that somehow I’d released her. And now here she was, back again, Jasmine and her pretty crystal, lighting up his room.

*

. . Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 9 Amazon UK :: Amazon US J is for Jealousy Amazon UK :: Amazon US