The days turned to nights, endless nights of ruthless passion, uninhibited pleasure. The sun, many mornings, rising on our exhausted frames. She did take me to where my wife never would, the price for this journey, never spoken. Soon, the path away from my angel, was closed altogether. At first, little signs, which looking back were not so little. Indiscretions, as I called them, finding her with other men in compromising positions. Times when she disappeared, only to be found later, somewhat tossed in her appearance. Each time, her apologies and a healthy dose of gratuitous sex, sedated my opposition to the truth. One of those long days, working to bring her trinkets of my affection, I came home and saw her, lying down, seemingly asleep, in one hand, a stash of little blue pills. It was perfectly staged, this suicide attempt. SNAP! The trap was sprung. My angel cried, told me how unhappy she was, how she had only one dream that would make her happy. That dream was for her to be a dancer. No not just a dancer, an exotic dancer. A man in my position is helpless to do anything but take care of her now, to save her, or so I thought. What did she need in this pursuit but a man to push ahead of her as she whispered which path to take? I was wholly naïve concerning the whole culture and its surrounding pitfalls and malevolent characters. But, the white knight was born, the rescuer, the one who will guide this angel through the dark and dangerous night. Little did I know that this would begin a journey through a hell deeper and hotter than I have ever imagined. How easily I slipped through the safety net of common sense and self protection, into the hold of a hell bent soul. In her lustful grip, she would, in the end, take my soul.
First written in: opinionsofeye.com