written 2002-2004.

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by Vanna Vechian

Helen, everything is so clear, far clearer than life. They're here for me to watch them, the two men shoving themselves into pleasure, and the woman having none. She's there to make them come, to make whoever's looking come; that's the entire reason for her, no need to add a single thing. The men can touch all of her, inside and out, but they needn't make her come, they needn't even use her cunt if they don't want to. She's just there to get it where it's put. No pleasure, no fun. Unless, of course, she can take solace from ejaculation for ejaculation's sake.

If she does that, then she's a dirty bitch, a slut who deserves every bad thing she gets, even if that includes gang rape at the hands of her camera crew which I know will happen if I turn on a couple of pages, or so.

 

from A.L. Kennedy, ‘Original Bliss’, 1997

painting by Erica Chappuis

 My icon,

 

I love you when you are closed. There is the promise that you will open.

Those heavenly gates to the land of ecstasy would be revealed. I would be in awe before them as before the great brass doors of a cathedral, rife with scenes of the journey to heaven in bas relief.

The cathedral, that sacred house of rituals that at once mystify and reveal, nourish and drain - would you be the priestess, benevolent yet severe?

Would I dare knocking? Would my knocking on these great and heavy doors even rise above the silence, or would I beat my fists to the bone and remain unheard? And would you open, if you heard? If you would open, would then your glory not blind me and scorch me, as if you were the Goddess herself?

 

I hesitate. Is a promise not better than its fulfillment? What promise would prevail after fulfillment? An unfulfilled promise remains and will grow stronger, an eternal overflowing source. Fulfillment is there, and then it is gone.

 

I must not knock. Be strong, my ego, and thrive on what might be! Be strong!

 

Strong… Ach…

 

I knock...

 

 

The room is dark.


- or -

But when you are open...

Copyright by Vanna Vechian, 2004. Reproduction allowed only for personal use.

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