Born again Electra 3

Today  the sun is gloriously shining. Today is the day of my rebirth. All my “sins” have been purged. I don’t believe in sin of course, I lost any belief a long time ago. Pleasure and transgression are my only values.

Saïd is gently snoring at my side. I open the curtain and let the bright sunshine in. He stirs, rubs his eyes. He has a beautiful body. Could he be of some use to Dieter and I? Could he help us lure some prey?  Things were getting tedious and I don’t want to let depression get the better of me.

He  kisses my neck very tenderly.image

” You look so much happier this morning. Shall I bring you breakfast in bed?”

I give him my most innocent smile.

” No, let’s go to a café… We’ll have coffee and croissants.”

And here we are, enjoying the French experience. I am just an unwordly British tourist, enjoying simple pleasures, basking under the warm Parisian sun. I am glowing, exultant. Ornella is just a distant memory, slowly decaying in a bin bag. I revel in my ultimate triumph and her ultimate defeat. Life is beautiful.

Electra complex

Dieter is rich. Dieter is sadistic. He is my German lecturer and teacher in the art of cruelty and submission. He enjoys demeaning me and he said I would enjoy it too. And I enjoyed part of it. He says we are two of a kind.

Oh, I remember how we met at the little cafe in front of the Uni. He came and sat next to me. Me the goody goody pupil so desperate for top grades and validation.  School prefect, daughter of an army colonel and all that. I wanted to be recognised by someone exceptional.

” Mind if I join you?” Steely blue eyes staring at me.

” I was just about to leave actually.” I feigned indifference and gave him that disdainful look.

” I won’t stay very long. And I would really like to get to know you better.”

I stayed. That was his first victory. It was far from being his last.

I soon left the digs I was sharing with my friends to move into his flat. The first day I roamed in a bit disorientated. His flat was so pristine and luxurious. I wondered where he got his money from. He told me he had a private income. I did not dare inquire any further. I was dazzled by his brilliance and his intellect. For once I had someone I could look up to. imageimageI was up for anything. Let me repeat this to you. I was up for anything. Restaurants, nightclubs in London, so unlike the local disco in the dump where I come from, fine wines and silk lingerie, and a spot of cocaine now and then. And the sex of course. At first he was gentle and caring but I knew he wanted things to get a bit rougher. I told him I wanted it too…

” Don’t be afraid of hurting me.” I cried a little but there was pleasure in it too.

Today I am wearing the nightdress he bought me for my birthday and lying in bed, stroking his cat Obama, a real persian beauty. That cat was pestering me and nearly tripped me over when he wrapped himself around my leg, purring loudly. I gave him some Sheba to keep him quiet. How can Dieter be so kind to that animal, as cats are by nature untamable? Another of life’s little mysteries…

I am going to have a bath. I want to be nice and fresh when he comes back. He hurt me more the last time we made love. He told me he would rub some cream on me or he would take me to see a doctor.

” She’s a lady. She’ll understand. We just got a bit carried away baby. I love you so much.” I kissed his silky blond hair and blue eyes. My German baby… I want to surrender to him utterly with all my heart, body and soul… Cliché! Time for punishment. What will it be this time?




Letter from a creep.

Is anybody out there?

Drowning…drowning when you really feel there is nothing to move forward to…  I am sinking deeper into the muddy waters, the dark recesses of my mind that I keep well hidden from everybody. I am an ordinary guy and you are a very ordinary girl, yes, you, the girl next door who acts so proud of yourself and so uninterested when I exchange a few words with you. I see you carrying your groceries up to your flat or coming back from work tired. You smile to me sometimes but I am just a ghost to you. I don’t look threatening. Did you know I strangled my pet cat when I was a kid? And my parents’ budgie? Could never stand the damn animal. How is that for a chat up line? Would that stir your interest a little? Still don’t like me? Oh well, I like you a lot. You’ve got nothing to fear from me…image


Another morning after

I am a lush, a drunk, a good for nothing. I loathe myself and I want to die. I have woken up today in a stranger’s bed again. My head is swirling around,yeah sooner or later the ceiling is going to crash over my poor head. Where was I last night more importantly who with? Does it really matter? I am still nursing a half empty tequila bottle in my left hand. The man, yes Reader, there was a man,appears to have gone. What was his name? Rafael, Gabriel, Azrael, no, can’t have been Azrael. Anyway what the hell… We were drinking shots until 2 or 3 in the morning. I think I passed out at some point. He was South American. Didn’t want to use a condom. In the end, despite my very inebriated state, I managed to persuade him to use one. He has a copy of a Frida Kahlo painting on his wall. A wounded deer. How appropriate. I really shouldn’t be doing this, I really shouldn’t be doing this, but somehow I always seem to. I don’t see myself as a high functioning alcoholic or whatever bullshit they call it to say “Hey, I’m a college graduate, I have a high powered job, if it wasn’t just for that slight little hitch, that my drinking sometimes get a bit out of control, I’d be just fine. I mean, I’m not a tramp or a single mother from a council estate. I don’t do drugs. I’m not a loser.”
Maybe I don’t care if I’m a loser or a winner. Maybe it’s just not so important to me.

I mean, I’m a good girl from a good family, the apple of her Daddy’s eye. So where did I go so wrong?

I just wish the pain in my heart would go (the one in my head and my stomach too but I know that they will…in time). I know it sounds terribly cliché, but since you’ve been gone, I can’t seem to be able to get my life sorted out. I must be the kind a girl every one would love to hate, the little princess who has suddenly discovered pain and just can’t cope. Whose only remedies to life’s toughness involve drinking margaritas or martini cocktails until she pukes. Who is not armed for the big fight. Who will age badly. Or go down very fast.

Ok, so alcohol has obviously made me very self-pitying. Get a grip sweetheart! Where are my shoes? One is lying by the side of the bed, the other one on top of the duvet cover. I prefer not to carry out an extensive search for my underwear.

I take a last look at myself in the mirror, try to brush my matted hair,wipe out my make up and my tears. So adios Gabriel or Rafael, it was nice meeting you although I don’t think I’ll be seeing you anytime soon.