The Sight
Jenna, back to the door, jerked violently upright from her oversized leather chair. She spun around. Her usually immaculate face was flushed. Tendrils of hair escaped her chignon, clinging damply to her temples. Her cream silk blouse was rumpled across the chest, as if hastily smoothed after rough handling. Her eyes met mine—dazed, startled—before hardening into sharp, flustered authority. "Linda?" Her voice was shrill, unsteady. "What is it? Why no knock?!" Mark stood by the huge window. My gaze dropped. Dead center on his dark trousers—the fly, half-zipped. Time stopped.
Her Panic
Jenna followed my icy stare. Saw Mark’s open zipper. Her color drained, matching Mark’s pallor, then flooded back—livid shame. "Get out!" she shrieked, voice cracking, control shattered. She took a half-step forward, as if to block my view or shove me out. "Now! Get out! Linda! Now!" She jabbed a trembling finger at the door. Silence crashed down. Her ragged breathing rasped like a broken bellows. Her silk blouse strained over her heaving chest, creasing deeply. Pure, exposed fury radiated from her.
His Reaction
Jenna’s scream seemed to jolt Mark awake. He shuddered violently. His eyes, vacant moments before, snapped to my face. What eyes they were. Empty. Terrified. Black tides of panic surged within, threatening to drown him. No remorse. No explanation. Only cornered, crumbling despair. Like a drowning man, he opened his mouth. Only a choked gasp escaped. His hands flew desperately to his trousers, fumbling frantically with the zipper. Twice, his shaking fingers failed. That gaping opening mocked me silently. Finally, he dropped his head, gaze locking onto the floor as if seeking an escape hatch. His whole body trembled uncontrollably.
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Jenna, back to the door, jerked violently upright from her oversized leather chair. She spun around. Her usually immaculate face was flushed. Tendrils of hair escaped her chignon, clinging damply to her temples. Her cream silk blouse was rumpled across the chest, as if hastily smoothed after rough handling. Her eyes met mine—dazed, startled—before hardening into sharp, flustered authority. "Linda?" Her voice was shrill, unsteady. "What is it? Why no knock?!" Mark stood by the huge window. My gaze dropped. Dead center on his dark trousers—the fly, half-zipped. Time stopped.
Her Panic
Jenna followed my icy stare. Saw Mark’s open zipper. Her color drained, matching Mark’s pallor, then flooded back—livid shame. "Get out!" she shrieked, voice cracking, control shattered. She took a half-step forward, as if to block my view or shove me out. "Now! Get out! Linda! Now!" She jabbed a trembling finger at the door. Silence crashed down. Her ragged breathing rasped like a broken bellows. Her silk blouse strained over her heaving chest, creasing deeply. Pure, exposed fury radiated from her.
His Reaction
Jenna’s scream seemed to jolt Mark awake. He shuddered violently. His eyes, vacant moments before, snapped to my face. What eyes they were. Empty. Terrified. Black tides of panic surged within, threatening to drown him. No remorse. No explanation. Only cornered, crumbling despair. Like a drowning man, he opened his mouth. Only a choked gasp escaped. His hands flew desperately to his trousers, fumbling frantically with the zipper. Twice, his shaking fingers failed. That gaping opening mocked me silently. Finally, he dropped his head, gaze locking onto the floor as if seeking an escape hatch. His whole body trembled uncontrollably.
NEXT >>
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