Friday, 25 May 2012

Bloody Rose

To celebrate the Chelsea Flower Shower, we present a short story written by our very own Ali Muirden, director of Creative Content Ltd....

The first time I did it was at the Chelsea Flower Show.  

I was rooted to the spot, surrounded by crowds of those ghastly day trippers.  You've seen the type, up from the sticks on a cheap day return, clutching their free seed catalogues and red in the face from the heat of the relentless sun, which for once had shown up on cue.

Suddenly I spotted him, weaving through the crowds, headed directly towards me.

Oh my! I thought.  He's just what I'm looking for. 

 He was tall and skinny, with an iPhone welded to his ear as he chatted animatedly into it. A Prada man bag was slung over one shoulder.  He was obviously wealthy by the look of his suit and shoes (you can always tell a handmade job by the quality of the leather).  He also looked gullible and I like that in a man.


I didn't move; it was impossible in that situation anyway, so I just let him come to me.  Always  the best idea. Men like the chase.  

He moved closer until I could see the colour of his eyes, which turned out to be an incredible green.  I hoped they weren't colour contacts.  That level of vanity in a man is always off-putting.

He was no more than a foot away now.  His gaze was intense and utterly focused on me.  I shook slightly with longing.  Subconsciously I urged him to move next to me. Come on, get closer... don't be shy.

It worked. He moved nearer, circling me and stopped.  A blessed cool breeze suddenly blew up and I trembled again, swaying slightly, trying to reach him without actually moving. He bent down slightly, reached out his hand and I just couldn't help myself.  I let him touch me, stroke me, pull me gently towards him.  

And so I did it.  Right there and then, in the middle of the flower show with everyone looking on.  I didn't care if anyone saw me or what anyone thought.  I just couldn't help myself.  I didn't even know his name.

Before I was ready for him to stop, he suddenly pulled his hand back and sexily licked his fore-finger and thumb of his right hand.   

"Shit! That was a mistake" he said.

He looked down at his hand and a long, deep gash was beading with his blood which he licked away before turning back to gesture to me.  

He called over to the guy manning the plant stand

"How much for this Rose bush?" he asked. - Ali Muirden

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