Vase on the Mantle

As promised on my Twitter page, here is an excerpt from my latest piece. I'm submitting it to Breadloaf. Enjoy.

“Time to take what’s mine.” I licked her from chin to nose. Each button of her blouse made a Savion Glover on the floor. I grabbed her wrists and held them behind her head. I used a free hand to maneuver down my sweats. I blinked or didn’t. A swift leg came between my legs and I fell to my side. She scrambled back before rising to her feet, picking up the package, and throwing it down on my face. She kicked me again strands of her hair sticking to the accumulated sweat on her face. She stopped and pushed me onto my back. She reached into her sock and pulled out a blade. She straddled me. Her eyes were heinous. Her makeup was smeared and the roots of her fresh holiday press and curl were coiling up. The strands adhered to her face became furry like they were growing out of her, like she was become an animal. She rested her forearms on my chest. Her hands moved to my neck. Her palms covered my ears. She rubbed my cheeks with tender giving me hope with a smile. Maybe I just came on too strong. The meeting between my head and floor made me bite my tongue.
“If your mouth opens, I will slit your throat.” The blade split the top layers of my skin. She sat up and slipped out of her hoodie. “We’re going to make a pact. But before we do, give me your hand.”
She tossed her hoodie over my face. “I suggest you bite down.” The blade made an earthquake on my flesh. I kept my face covered. The first gash was straight. The blood droplets hit my cover, a few I could taste. The attempts to curve her insignia made my fingers twitch. Finishing one hand, she began on the other. My jaws began to surrender as my head fell to the right. The wet spot from my spit, splotches of blood, and sweat cooled my cheek. Soon, I felt nothing.