The Naked Truth

the-naked-truthShe stood before him wearing nothing but the dagger shaped necklace she’d worn all through their first date. His eyes were wide with anticipation as he drank in her perfect body. All the right bits swayed as she walked towards him then pushed at his chest so his legs had to submit to the bed behind him. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and a finger made its way down her cheek bone to her lips, parting them slightly, enough to see her sparkling teeth just beyond. Her hand carried on to her necklace, her fingers coiled round it’s shaft. She gripped it. Hard. Then pulled. There was no ripping sound. There was no blood. Just an invisible zip that released her skin from her body, neck to belly button. It fell from her shoulders, peeled from her hips, her thighs, her legs. And she stepped out of her covering, dropping it in a jellied blob on the stained carpet, the sinewy bits that had held it there dripped from her skeleton. She ripped off her mask from the chin and stared at his trembling body.
“You wanted the naked truth, didn’t you?”

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