Eros

He was slipping into her.
“It’s a large monolithic experience. You can’t turn back.”
His eyes were like infinite skies, dense and inky blue.
She’d been sitting there in that weird posture for what seemed a light year.
And yet, her hands couldn’t move even to flick off the heavy curl that had fallen over her forehead.
“Everything is where it should be.”
Her back was hurting and the air buzzed with flies. She tried to take the nothingness seriously, and continually suppressed a yawn and pulled back a fart.
“I am inside you. And you are one of the smoothest.”
People had warned her that he was weird. Told her to be quiet. It was an eternity of stupidity she thought. Lying here naked, while he chants nonsense and puts some colours on white papers. Her mind wandered to the wild evening outside, the streets where her friends were hanging around with their booty to make quick money.
She blinked.
Ahmed held her closely, and stroked the little bald head. Bianca looked on without a shred of clothing, or a shred of hair on her. There was something about Ahmed that had made her drop the wig she put on for appearances' sake.
A strong wind blew into the room. The doll seemed to shiver in its naked glory. Ahmed poured some wine and soothed the tender plastic limbs. There was a pain he didn’t seem to locate.
“Must be the groin,” he murmured.