Sunday, 16 March 2008

The bar at the .....

As the aquamarine water swirled and spiralled out of his bath Dr Jekyll's narcissism took complete control and he admired his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Totally pre-occupied with himself and his own needs and aspirations he had developed a very distorted perception of his true looks and character.
He was tall, but hadn't noticed the stoop he was developing. His hair was steely gray, flecked with dark strands, but was not nearly as distinguished as he believed it to be, while the blue eyes he prided himself on were set too close together and were rather raptor like in their gaze.
Friday nights were the times when he prepared to end the week with unrepentant self-indulgence. It was a time to take a few risks and perhaps - if he was lucky (or drunk) - experience the kinds of exciting activities he normally only fantasised about without having to break his vow of non-commitment.
He slipped on his favourite, as yet unwashed, navy, viscose shirt which opened at the neck to reveal his not so muscular chest and pulled his denims over his freshly laundered underwear. Patting his hair into place his eyes sparked with interest as he stood face to face with this vision of irresistable manhood.
Ready at last he had every intention of tracking down the barmaid he'd been distracted by the previous week after getting an eyeful of her voluptuous breasts. Jekyll felt a leap of pure electricity and was arrogant enough to believe that there had been a spark of heated connection between them both. Thoughts of her had pre-occupied his fantasies all week and tonight he intended to find a way to persuade her to spend a sensual evening together.

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