She abandoned innocence long ago; I can say this because, when first we met, she had an air of purity that was not unlike a child licking a lollipop while holding the hand of her mommy; now, she presents as a woman gripping the pole. Yes, she has come to embrace licking things less sweet, but I’m too far ahead of myself. At this moment, I feel the room tilting from the men scurrying to be absorbed. Oh, how they slip into her cleavage to wallow in her humid heat. Yes, they each vie desperately to draw her heaving breasts in between their wanting lips. Boys, as are men, want to suckle always.

Well, they may bruise her tender flesh from their need, but she is, and will be an innocent flower to her parents always. And they tended to her well cultivating the young girl fleeing the naiveté of the countryside for the brashness of the city; this is where we met, and, oh, she was a frail thing as pale as white lilies, and her freshness was as heady as the lilies’ perfume. Still, she had a mane as red as the fires of hell, and I felt myself being consumed. Yes, I was taken with the first sight of her but not romantically as I preferred men: I speak of them in the past because I’ve grown tired of their need to suckle, but this is not about me. No, this is about this hungry creature needing to be stoked, so I did what I could do when feeding her. You see, we were standing before a pizza shop when I introduced myself, so, as she was nearly drooling from its perfume, I invited her in, and we ate slices while sharing benign bits of our lives.

I read that realizing that I’m underselling the conversation that she offered because words poured over the slice hovering before her sauce stained lips; they were revealing the blemishes of her youth, and I listened without understanding the judgements that this poor thing suffered. Yes, I could see that she must have been a gawky creature with a head too large, for her body, but “her light has to have been as brilliant.” I remember thinking this while knowing children are ignorant of appreciation: if it’s different, they have to punish it; tease it poking their tongues into it until difference submits; this, I understand because I suffered the countryside’s youth myself. Well, that was behind us both as we were in that moment looking out of the windows of that pizza shop appreciating the city’s views while sharing our ambitions: she wanted to be a model, and I knew where I could start her, so we exchanged numbers, once exhausting our expressions, and went our separate ways.

Now, I could tell you of this evening and the throng of men throbbing before her; however, if I tell you of this, you would miss, so very much, so I won’t: no, I am going to begin with the meeting that launched her career. Well, the first steps of her career. With that, I have to laugh because “first steps” are uplifting to witness; however, they are followed by falls always and, oh, how striking bottom can hurt: I was working with a company in the fashion industry, and in fashion models are as essential as oxygen. Well, I called her the first hour of the next day of work to have her come in to walk the hallway before those jealous of her stature, and stride. I wasn’t surprised when she was embraced with squealing enthusiasm because queens love a new dolly to play with. Now, that’s not a slight because we homosexuals cut each other always.

Anyway, I knew that she would be chosen, and I was happy that she was because I needed a distraction from the drama: queens, love drama, and the office was riddled with it from undercutting and gossiping and just plain blatant slighting. So, to be blunt, I needed her brilliant glow to overpower every flame singeing my patience.

Well, before she knew it, she was walking presenting our wares marvelously within the office and department stores. She even confided in me that she had been selected to model for others when she wasn’t working for us. Well, I told her to keep this within her muff because the “girls” would throw hissy fits if they knew that their dolly was sharing herself; this was the secret that forged our extracurricular friendship: we shopped, and dined, and we danced many a night away until she began dating; then, I stepped aside.

Weeks, and, sometimes, months passed when we met within the office only, and she pulled me in to whispers about the many men drawn to her light. Then, occasionally, she asked me to meet her to meet them, so I could provide my reviews: usually, they were ok, but I felt that she was selling herself short to snap offerings of attention. Still, I said nothing until meeting Grizzle: oh, he was a bony thing with features that some might have described as chiseled, but I saw him as haggard and emaciated; also, he was smug; rather, cocky, and he absorbed her glow greedily. Well, I remember arriving late one evening to a soiree that one of her new friends was throwing. And when entering the loft, I lingered around its perimeter hiding behind fellow guests while watching her light falling over him; he was sucking it in without regard for her. Why, she was no more than an accessory to him, so it was not a surprise when she told me of his cutting ways: snarky putdowns, and social displays of disregard and sexual ambivalence. Well, I told her that he was jealous because she possessed the beauty that he aspired to hold, and I told her: “It’s like that when flesh is wrapped around an ugly soul.” Still, she would not release him.

I couldn’t understand this. Of course, I knew that she was fighting to shed her past while fighting to rise, and his arm was acknowledged, by the naïve, as something of value. Still, she was being treated poorly while giving her body to him while he showed no appreciation. Well, I was happy when he became aggressive sexually: oh, he wasn’t hurting her; rather, he was making demands upon her from his self-assigned place of deserving while intensifying his disregard of her when engaging socially. I wasn’t told anything too personal, and I suppose that this was because she was shamed, but she dumped him, and was left feeling diminished. I attempted lifting her, but she found my offerings lacking and began dating indiscriminately. In fact, she showed no discretion when stepping before the buffet of men offering themselves to her as she sampled each voraciously.

Well, time passed, and I could do nothing, but watch. Then, she met a man appreciating her light as strongly as I, and she asked me to meet him, so I did, and, during our meeting, he suggested her moving to Paris as the options for modelling were vast there. Well, my body was inhaling the breath required to propel my words suggesting thinking this over when she gripped his arm and agreed. And during the weeks leading to her departure, she was deaf to my voice. Oh, I wasn’t attempting discouraging her because you have to take a leap to win, but I was attempting teaching her temperance when making decisions, and associations: she tolerated me, as I saw it, and I waved robustly while smiling jubilantly towards her expression beaming from the rear window of the cab carrying her to the airport.

Again, time passed as I read the messages detailing parties that she was attending and appreciating with great enthusiasm. And I appreciated the links texted leading me to her image adorning the pages of many fashion magazines and runway videos. However, I gushed more than ever when she texted of the offering that a very prominent fashion designer had made to make her his pet; he propelled her to the stardom that she craved desperately, and she shone brightly despite me finding her light dimming: Grizzle, I heard in the tone of her typed words, and the few telephone conversations that we shared, and I thought of him as she had adopted his deserving nature. Well, her rise was rapid, and she was happy without presenting any temperance, but this was our end: I just couldn’t because I wouldn’t embrace her new being.

Never, will I forget the drizzly damp and cold March evening when she stepped in to my path: I had left work late despite having nothing to do because the dreadful weather was making me want to sleep within the office, so, needless to say, I was not interested in halting my pace when hurrying home. Well, she begged me to have pizza with her as we had the many years before; I’m a sucker, so I went with her.

We ended our silent walk at a pizzeria far from the site of her first purge, and she sat before me revealing the blemishes of her new life. They were pouring between her lips that were stained with sauce as they had been once before: affairs distracting her from work causing numerous absences a pregnancy that she aborted, and the subsequent affairs, one providing an STD, and weight gain from her distress after being fired from the design house that had launched her. Well, she was defeated from being overwrought from upset, and, as written, I’m a sucker, so I told her that I would help: I introduced her to a job as a receptionist while, if she could pull herself up, promising: “If you can recover yourself, we will attempt resurrecting your career, but I am not promising anything.” She was as giddy as a child on Christmas morning.

Well, she worked days at her new job while working evenings recovering her allure. And before we knew it, men were taking notice again. Sadly, however, the designer had told her story, so she was out: no one would work with her. Well, she spiraled in to sex and alcohol even posting a naked image of herself to the internet: she received rave reviews, and she rose to the demand while spiraling in to the attitude that drove us apart.

Now, I stand hearing her “darlings” falling into the room while watching her breasts heave for the many admiring her “talents.” Well, she has risen concealing the scars of her fall beneath glossy flesh; she is a success as contemporary culture deems her; however, I wonder: “When she is old, what words will detail the substance of this success?”

By Christopher DelMonaco

From: United States

Twitter: cdelmonacowrite