A Writer's Distraction and Desires

The Temptation of the Photo Enchantress: A Writer's Distraction and Desires

They say a picture can speak a thousand words, but he never truly believed it until he encountered it. Sitting in his studio, bored and alone, he browsed the virtual pages of the internet, clicking through page after page, updating his blogs, platforms, and books with the latest content. He was an author.

Who would have known that such beauty would catch his eye and become his distraction? He vowed never to be swayed by such allure, a modern-day Samson facing Delilah. He needed to stay focused on his work, which was of utmost importance.

Yet, he couldn't resist. So, he clicked, and a new window opened, instantly pulling him in. Her picture caught him off guard. Why did he ever blink? Lost in a time warp, trapped in a dreamland of heavenly allure, he found himself far from his familiar surroundings.

Gone was his office study, with its computer screens, fireplace, and antique desk where he composed his prose and poetic masterpieces. He was now engulfed in an unknown portal, a dream where surroundings turned into abstract forms, devoid of meaning.

Everything was a faded blur, except for her, an enigmatic cocoa goddess of the sea. Her gaze penetrated his soul, and he couldn't look away. Deep, brown, bedroom eyes held him captive, like glossy crystal balls revealing the future. Those bright full moons within her galaxy stirred something primal within him.

He knew his soul was not his to give, but her gaze made him want to surrender it in an instant, consequences be damned. 'Please take all of me,' he thought, his heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears.

 Photo by Gideon Hezekiah on Unsplash

For a lifetime of pleasure and sin with her, he would willingly sell his soul to the devil, even if it meant eternal damnation. 'What am I saying? Lord, forgive me! I must resist this temptress, this hypnotic goddess.'

But she wasn't to blame; it was his own weakness, his naiveté. It was the luminescence, her glow, that drew him in like a moth to her magical light. Her skin, the color of pure honey, left a sweet taste on his lips.

His imagination grew stronger as the dream felt more real with each passing moment. Her hair, like spun silk, entangled him like a lost prince to Rapunzel's tower. She seduced him with her gaze, her eyebrows arching like rainbows.

Her eyes, like rose petals, controlled the winds when she blinked. He felt like a Venus flytrap, willingly surrendering to her death grip. Her dimpled cheeks pulled him in like whirlpools, making him dizzy, but her knowing smile kept him grounded on tender clouds.

Her lips were like crescent moons, inviting him to taste their fruit. He longed to savor the sweetness between her lips, down in the South, and he fantasized about her touch, a magnetic pull toward her embrace.

Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander within this dream of wonders, smirking to himself. Her nose was cute, a button that captured her Kodak smile. Each glimpse of her pearly whites was like a sunrise upon his horizon.

As he stood there, basking in her magnificence, he was just a simple shadow eclipsed by her glory. Her well-carved physique resembled a perfect sculpture, and her bosom held the treasure of her heart. He appreciated every detail and contour of her body.

Her legs, strong supports for her "Apple Bottom," were ripe for the picking. He couldn't resist the temptation, knowing that one day he would have to visit. He imagined the sweetest taste of her peach.

His hands tingled, longing to caress her pure body, tracing his fingertips, painting his love onto her canvas. As he opened his eyes to ask for her name, his computer's screensaver had already come on. He had been lost in a reverie for well over 30 minutes.

Back to reality, he realized he still had the mouse in his hand. He shook it, clearing the screensaver, and her photo came back into focus. Leaning back in his chair, clasping his fingers behind his head, he looked up at the ceiling and sighed to no one in particular, 'Who are you, Photo Enchantress?'"

©Vee Nelly

From the book Visions of Prosetry