Homage To Chloe

© 2012 David Jasmin-Green

Don't bother with your blandishments and hollow promises, Chloe,
he said in a squeaky voice, an alien voice
that sounded more like a limp falsetto
than the voice of a grown man.
I'm sick of this fiasco and I'm sick of you. Do you hear me?
I can't live with you any more, you bitch,
honestly I can't.
I can't stand the thought of you doing, you know,
doing what you obviously can't help doing behind my back,
so I want you to leave.
When? The sooner the bloody better, really -
right now would be just perfect!

Chloe looked at him with her big, brown eyes,
a finger toying perhaps absent mindedly, he mused,
with her moist, oversized lips,
lips that needed no implants or collagen injections
to make them full and pouty, to make them as juicy as hot hell
and completely undeniable.
Those lips were as red and bloody as the jaws of a tiger
feasting on a fresh kill.

And that wasn't all,
not even nearly.
Chloe's small, pert, braless bosoms heaved in a sigh
that threatened to become a racking sob
if the daft bastard didn't see sense,
if he couldn't find it in his soppy heart to forgive her
and change his mind.

She was of course careful to arch her back
so that her nipples pressed tightly
against the gauzy fabric of her blouse,
but no red blooded male could have missed those fuckers
even if she was wearing a cable knit pullover
and a Donkey jacket.

Unfortunately soft cock didn't fall for it.
Almost, she thought, but not quite,
so she was forced to play her best card.
Chloe mercilessly unleashed her piece de resistance,
an ancient, seemingly banal glamour
that evoked a far more potent magic
than even an old hand like her realised.
All she did know was that so far in her cock-addicted life
the spell had never failed her, and, she guessed,
it never would.

Oh Shit, he said. Don't look at me like that, for Christ's sake.
I suppose your next trick is to shower me with crocodile tears,
but I'm warning you, your games have taught me to harden my heart
and crying won't cut the slightest bit of ice with me.
Don't cry. Please don't cry, Chloe.
Oh, come here, you daft sod.”

Back of the fucking net,
the tigress silently applauded herself.