Womans role in love

Womans Role In Love.

Maisey sat as always perched upright on the soft grey chair, wearing
her usual mauve knitted cardigan which she pulled snugly around
her.
Gazing firmly out of the window, as she always did at this time of day
she watched the regular routines of people coming home, the working day
ended, sun beginning to go down, and thoughts of evening starting to
bring people together.
She often amused herself by looking at each one of her neighbours,
giving them a job in the busy city and a family that they were rushing
home to. Here comes the blonde girl she had named Susie. A secretary
she thought, for a doctor returning home to her boyfriend. Next was
Derek, her neighbour but one, he worked in an office in the city and
has three children and a lovely wife, Emily. Finally the young chap who
lived opposite came along, Paul. Maisey could never decide what job to
give Paul. He was dark and looked continental. His long dark hair fell
over his eyes, which gave him a romantic look, though she would not go
as far as to make him a bar tender, that would be too exotic for him,
he looked much to homely for that. She often wondered if he could be a
clerk in a nice little bank on the edge of the city.
Paul lived alone she had noticed and although there had been in the
past young men and women to stay there had never been any family. It
made her wonder then, who's child was Paul bringing home with him
tonight. The boy held Paul's hand, but looked uncomfterable, almost as
if he had not spent long enough in Paul's company to feel at ease. The
boys long golden locks fell over his cherry skin, which he pulled aside
to look through. Paul looked down and smiled as they entered his
house.
Baby sitting for one of his friends Maisey thought.

Paul noticed the curtains twitching in the house across the
road.
"Noisy old bitch." He mumbled under his breath.
He tightened his grip on the boys sweaty hand and looked down to give
him an unconvincing smile as they entered his house.
Paul sat the child Gabrielle, on the sofa. He looked down on the sweet
innocent little face staring up at him, it had been almost completely
engulfed by he huge orange cousins of the sofa. The sweet innocent face
staring up at him...He remembered when he was innocent, not so many
years ago, he thought back. Like any adventurous young boy he had
attended the clubs, looking for company and a bit of romance, but
watched week after week as his friends left him one by one until he was
forced to walk home by himself. For months he recalled he had done this
and it always ended the in same way, him walking home alone feeling
unattractive and unloved.
Looking down on the sweet child's face now he could remember the exact
moment when he lost his innocence for good. Friday night had come
around again, as regular as day and night. Even now he could feel the
mixture of emotions exploding inside him. Loneliness and isolation.
Desire, burning so hard, desire for love and romance and a soft body
next to him. Anger, at himself for always being the one left behind,
anger at those who left him. Wishing that his mother had just rapped
her arms around him and told him that it would be all right, but not
even she was there for him.
That night he decided he would not go down to the club he would not
let himself be a reject, he wanted to fix this for good.
Late that Friday night he found himself walking isolated streets of
the city. It was a cool night and he could see his breath in front of
his face as he walked, as if it were leading the way, further and
further away from the busy city night life. He pulled his hands into
his pockets to stop Jack Frost from nibbling at them.
Eventually he had reached his destination. On the east side of the
city between Upaction station and the heath stood Marydale road. A
notorious road, he had heard about it as the boys giggled about it in
school years ago. Once they planned to go down there one night to see
for themselves, though Paul never went. He had thought it was sleazy
and wrong.
Paul entered the street now, walking cautiously, he noticed how
different everybody was here. Unaffected by cold weather, bodies
exposed themselves. Make up on the women was overdone in an attempt to
draw attention to themselves, or to make themselves look younger or
both. The men who belonged there stood on the corners or in doorways,
just waiting. Other men, visitors like Paul walked the street
inspecting the women they passed. As he walked passed Paul looked into
the eyes of one of the women. She stared back at him, her eyes dull and
lifeless, her lips moved, words came out, but Paul did not
understand.
After careful selection walking up and down and back again Paul had
made his choice. He approached the woman, her body long and thin. Flesh
seemed to hang off her bones. Her long hair was piled high on her head
in a scruffy manner. As he approached she forced a smile and slightly
pulled back her jacket to reveal blotchy white flesh, red from the
cold.
"Hey baby, you looking for a date?"
"I'm looking"

Hours later Paul looked at the white flesh once again, this time it
was naked, striped of life. Grey and motionless. He hadn't meant to do
it, he was only looking for the feelings he had never known. Once he
had looked into the eyes of the woman before him, he did not se Gods
delicate creature who had already been wronged by a thousand men
through time. He saw the eyes of every single woman he had ever known
looking back at him, seeing the unattractive, pitiful man they all saw
and they laughed. Their laughter grew so loud Paul could hear nothing
else.
Late that Friday night Paul's hands wove themselves around soft warm
flesh on the woman's neck. His grip tightened and tightened like a
deadly python around its prey, squeezing every muscle until the time
the prey can no longer move. Its motionless body falls, no longer a
struggle. Clod and lifeless.
Paul hadn't meant to do it. He tried to be loving to her. He had of
course had sex with her, but this was unsatisfactory to him. Thrusting
himself harder and harder into her. Using all the force he could find
in himself. Her pleas for him to stop fell on deaf ears. Her struggles
as attempts to push him off her resulted in him pinning her arms down.
Roughly he pulled her legs further apart, scraping at her breasts, he
felt bewildered by them. As if all the evil in the world, all the
wrongs done to him had emerged from these breasts, he wanted to scratch
them out. On top of her now he griped her thighs, the overgrown nail on
his index finger digging into her. Pulling at her flesh, withdrawing
blood. His thumb on the other side of her leg pressing deeper and
harder between her bone and muscles. When his energy had come to a
climatic stop he pulled back for a second, not wanting to stop, but
unable to continue. The rag doll beneath him took her chance at this
sudden freedom reaching out she managed to scrape his face with her
nails as he moved out of the way.
He had expected a fight, though he thought her cries and gasping for
air were playful reactions. He had wanted her to hit back. Unleashed
were his feelings of anger and hate, so strong that he had wanted to
hurt someone, torture them as her had been. He did not want to kill.
Now looking down on a weak woman he felt disappointed. Women could not
take the beating he wanted to dish out. Unsatisfied, the Friday that
followed Paul started a pattern, once again he went out to look for
someone.

"Hey solider, you here alone?"
"Not anymore"
Today Paul had found himself in a club uptown. Without a feeble woman
in sight he felt relaxed. The huge man that stood before him smiled as
Paul got up, they left together.
As they walked Paul turned to the man. He loathed him, people like
him, but at least he would be able to put up a good fight. He wouldn't
be broken so easily. Paul could take his time expressing his
emotions.

Paul gazed up at the ceiling. Laying flat on the floor, his whole body
throbbing. Surges of pain rushed through him. Breathing harder and
harder to tried to control his racing heart. At first he had enjoyed
it, but now lying battered and bruised , unable to reach his feet Paul
was once again unsatisfied.
Almost immediately he had lashed out at the toned body he had taken
home. The first punch awoke the embedded anger. The second unleashed
his pain, and when his companion had started to throw punches back Paul
had started to enjoy it. Being beaten physically instead of mentally
for once. He had however not expected it to go this way. Paul was
unprepared for the opponents strength, he soon took control and hurt
Paul, beating him so much he lost consciousness.
Perhaps it would have been all right if Paul ha given him sexual
pleasure first. He would have fallen in love with Paul and let him do
anything, that was right wasn't it? but Paul despised the thought, it
made him even angrier to think of two men engaged in the act of love.
He felt his blood starting to boil. That women could not even pleasure
man enough to prevent them from going to each other. No, women didn't
prevent it, they drove men into each others masculine arms, It was not
only him they had hurt, but all men. His anger flared up but it was too
late now, his opponent had gone and had beaten him. There was no one to
take it out on.
"Bloody bitches." He mumbled as he pulled himself off the floor. "Can't
do anything right."
Paul had made the decision today. Show no mercy. He needed to release
what he held inside. What had been put there, that he did not ask for
and did not want. He needed to get it out so that he could live, but
who would he choose now? A woman was too feeble a man too strong. He
needed someone who would show the pain he was inflicting clearly on
their face. Someone who would cry and scream out in terror, someone who
had never known pain. He with the only option he had left.

Paul tightened his grip on the boys sweaty hand and looked down to
give him an unconvincing smile as they entered his house. Sitting on
the sofa Paul plied the child with more sweets. They had wondered the
city all day as Paul had become unsure. They stuck to the back streets
and had finally wondered back to his home.
"Is mummy coming to get me now?" Gabrielle nervously mumbled.
"No child, were going to play a game, now come here."

Maisey pulled her curtains close together as she watched Paul enter
his house and was startled by the sudden rustling of the front door.
Her legs had given way again and she could not get up but turned
towards the door and was relived to find that the paper boy had shoved
the evening paper through her door. It lay on the mat, staring up at
her, waiting to be read. From her distance she could not read it. The
bold letters shouted at her in a language she could not understand with
out her glasses. A huge picture under the urgent headlines dominated
the page.
The angelic face on the page looked a little like the one on the child
Paul had brought home with him she noticed.
"It's funny how that happens" She chuckled. "Well maybe I might read
the paper tomorrow, when this leg lets me up to get it, still no
earthquakes or storms, no urgent news to read I suppose."