Spacey Thoughts From The Back Of The Room
by Ian Jade
The artists gathered – drank anonymous coffee; nibbled at familiar pastry.
They made the unusual small talk and waited to begin.
One took herself over to the room-behind-the-room, and peeked inside with her other pair of eyes: the nearest of the girls within stood a little straighter, and preened. Her companions took the given hint and struck their poses hard.
(Meanwhile, muttering in quiet corners, the storytellers bend their listeners’ ears; the kind of aural sex that leaves marks. If it’s done right they’ll be read for days.)
Our dual artist, and her friend, admired the parade of naked flesh – “My other self would never do this!” – and keenly complimented girls on keeping natural beauty.
“Real cunts, my dear! Real tits – divine and rare!”
The pair moved on, with others following behind, appraising lustily the swell of cheek; the arch of spine; the musculature and mis-culture of bodies turned for pleasure. “This is profoundly me: that one is more your Alter’s thing, my dear!”
The girls, at this point, perk up and play; begin to paradox. Ice softens, hardening the flesh beneath; the tightened ropes offer release; a lone pugilist fights gravity on pointed toes; the human host is offered up to a new congregation.
Thoughtfully the artists mingled, and discussed the finer points of finer-pointed bristles; and how to capture the subtle play of light on skin.
Later, on stage, the canvas was displayed. They took no notice.
A version of the piece I submitted for the Eroticon2012 anthology, Dirty Thoughts From The Back Of The Room.