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Eye of the Beholder by Danica Green

Eye of the Beholder

by Danica Green
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Page 1

Brian collapsed onto the bed, breathing deeply and excreting invisible beads of sweat that dampened the pillows but did not mar his face. He looked over to his wife, their vigorous session leaving her gasping and choking with unpleasant, gurgled noises that made him shudder. Reaching out a hand, he stroked the side of her cheek, ran a finger along her collarbone and she smiled, placing an arm across his side where her long fingernails shimmered and disappeared into his flesh, unfelt. She had always been a nail-biter, a habit he had tried to talk her out of on multiple occasions but she never listened. As her creamy white fingertips reached the muscles of his stomach, she flinched a little, rolling away and picking up a hand mirror from the bedside table, moving her nose this way and that in the glass.

“Again?” Brian sounded both amused and frustrated as he watched Janie pinch her lips together and tug her earlobes down, a ritual that had punctuated their nights for many years.

“Sofia Gordon has that lovely round button of a nose. Mine is a little sharp, don’t you think?”

“They look identical to me.”

“You would say that.”

Brian shrugged against the mattress and yawned into the back of his hand. He was willing to pay to keep her happy but lately her spending habits had got out of control, though the same could be said of almost every woman on the face of the planet. Everywhere he went he was awash in a sea of green eyes, curvy figures and C-cup breasts to the point he had to ask Janie to wear a red scarf when he met her for lunch, to avoid accidentally ass-grabbing a total stranger. The thing that really annoyed him though was that, when Sofia Gordon burned out, as pop singers often do within the year, he’d be shelling out fistfuls of dollars so she could go rake-thin, mid-thirties, black hair and caramel skin; that had been Flavia Munroe two years ago and he hadn’t been a fan, either of her music or her face on his wife. He preferred blondes. He preferred late twenties. He preferred small breasts but Janie was a fashionista and he wouldn’t take away her only pleasure in life. His only real grievance was the toll it took on their finances, every spare cent scrounged and saved in the hopes she could afford to buy ‘The Sofia’ from the salon down in LA. Of course they only had the one on sale and he knew people richer than they who were much closer to snapping it up before Janie. He didn’t really care. A green bouffant? Green? He’d never been a fashionable guy but it seemed that celebrities these days were taking liberties with the word, and he didn’t even find Sofia Gordon attractive. Rolling over and switching off his lamp he pushed against Janie, trying to regain a decent section of the bed. She certainly took up an ample portion of it despite her hourglass waist and in the last ten years he found himself fighting more and more covert rolls of skin that spilled out invisible from Janie’s flattened stomach. He ran a hand down his own body and cringed a little as his abs shimmered and his hand sat neatly on the mound of a pot belly, floating several inches above his taut chest. The lamp went off on Janie’s side of the room and Brian fell asleep to the sounds of jowly snoring.

When the morning arrived, Janie slept on as she always did, perpetually unemployed and gasping painfully at the smallest amount of physical exertion. She refused to go to a doctor over what must now be a pretty excessive weight problem but most people these days felt the same way and even Brian cringed at the thought of going to the local surgery only to run into the doctor on the street with his wife sniggering ‘you’ll never guess what’s under there’ as he passed. He leaned down to kiss Janie goodbye, the blankets hovering above her breasts and thin shoulders that stirred Brian to physical feelings he didn’t have time for, and he left the house to walk the few blocks to his office. The roads were awash with shining red and silver vehicles with sleek frames and flawless paint jobs, though many of them still stuttered, shuddered, poured black smoke from invisible exhausts so the morning air seemed filled with dark, demonic presences floating unbidden above the tarmac. Brian’s office was on the corner and as he entered he casually eyed the new receptionist clicking away at the computer screen in front of her. Her name was Alice and she was breathtaking, but that was all her knew about her, except for the fact that at twenty two, her smooth face did not belie her age. She smiled as he passed and Brian nodded in greeting, turning off to the elevator behind the desk. She had been here for a week, he knew she ate alone and his desire to be friendly often warred with his attraction to her and the appearances she had made in his mind while he was pressed against Janie’s vast yet sagging bosom in the night. He knew what his wife would say about Alice if she met her, mock her choice of skinny and small-breasted and who the hell wears blue eyes these days anyway? It went almost unnoticed to Brian that he turned around and walked to stand in front of Alice’s desk.


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About the Author

Danica Green

Danica Green is a UK-based writer who is fascinated with human nature and emotional extremes. Her work has been published in over forty print and online publications including the venerable Smokelong Quarterly. Her most recent anthology publication with Cinammon Press can be found here: Cinnamon Press

Story Discussion

Stories by Danica Green

Eye of the Beholder by Danica Green

Eye of the Beholder

“Hello Alice,” Brian said, not looking her in the eyes. She reached out a hand and tilted his chin up, opened her mouth to ask him why he was there but was silenced by a kiss before she could voice it. Brian kicked the door closed behind him as she stumbled back, carnally locked, then started to respond to his advances. When they broke apart, both were panting, hands arranged haphazardly on each other’s bodies.

“Brian,” Alice said warningly, “your wife.”

See what happens next in this new story by Danica Green

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