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The Sea
The Sea He smiled and kissed her lips—only not quite. There was a layer of plastic between his and hers. It crinkled at the contact and continued to crinkle as he sucked it into his mouth. Kissing her, it struck him the situation could be seen as poetic, maybe even beautiful. You had living and dead, separated by a thin veneer of plastic: civilization as a barrier between the needs of one and the rights of another—battle of the sexes, survival of the species—yes, definitely beautiful. The smell of semen like<b> damp </font></b>chlorine mixed with the acrid ammonia of her urine, and, if he pressed his nose close to the crotch of her blue satin panties, he thought he could even detect the heady, erection-inducing odor of her cunt, so much like the odor of the sea. Strange, he thought, wrapping her body in the soiled comforter, how life always ends where it begins. It was a short trip to the pier where he kept his boat and an even shorter one to an isolated spot several miles offshore. Goodbye, dear, he thought, and tipped her over the edge. |
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