*Explicit content, for mature audiences
Frankie’s eyes glittered like the star-filled summer sky, brimming with tears saltier than the ocean, crashing waves accompanying his broken-hearted, full-moon, acoustic guitar strumming. His mind was an hourglass, each memory of his beloved who left him a piece of shiny sand filling the shoreline. Frankie’s beach blanket harlequinade was complete when, overflowed with longing, he started casually crooning:
Venus, if you will
Please send a little girl for me to thrill
A girl who wants my kisses and my arms
A girl with all the charms of you.
Venus, if you do
I promise that I always will be true
I’ll give her all the love I have to give
As long as we both shall live.
Venus, goddess of love that you are
Surely the things I ask
Can’t be too great a task.
Frankie’s appeal wafted from the sea mist at Wrightsville Beach to the highest peaks of platinum Olympus, where the divine Venus was relaxing glorious, resplendent, a red rose beauty to behold, hearty yet delicate, bright and sharp. “This cocky man wishes a woman with my charms, as if any human could compare. Creating the perfect woman is definitely not too great a task; he taunts me to have his desire. Although, Frankie did make a promise to remain devoted to a Venus-sent girl, which would be entertaining to watch and maybe meddle…”
Frankie dozed and woke with the sunrise’s tropical flourish. He flickered fully awake when a bombshell brunette in a belly-button bearing bikini bounded fresh and wet from the dawn breakers. She jogged gingerly to him, unashamed of her beauty or their status as strangers, ringing out and flipping about her luscious hair, she asked, “Don’t you just love a morning swim to really wake up?”
“Sure, baby, yeah, sure I do. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me more about what you like to do in the morning. What’s your name?”
Frankie and Annette shook up the beach: they were the bonfire’s hottest couple and closer than two halves of a happy clam in high tide. When they were together, close enough to share a surfboard sometime, Frankie was all eyes on Annette, and she loved his worshipful gaze as they enjoyed all-night explorations.
Annette arrived at the Beach Club, cute and pastel with bangs perfectly curled, just like Frankie liked. She caught a glimpse of Frankie’s swimsuit, so she shimmied around to say hello, when she saw him whispering a kiss into the ear of a blonde in a fringe dress.
“What are you doing?” demanded Annette over the jukebox music, gripping Frankie’s arm.
“Relax, baby, she’s an old friend,” sweet-talked Frankie, planting an intimate kiss on her nape, “You smell irresistible. Annette, are you wearing something new?”
“It’s my natural scent, it really comes out when I’m upset. Come on let’s get out of here.”
“I would follow you anywhere,” and they jumped into his convertible. He cruised where she directed, without question, to a sandy spot at Green Swamp Preserve.
“This swamp is really far out, Annette. You’re such a fantastic girl. You know, I’ve loved the time we’ve spent together the past few weeks. Don’t you think it’s time for you to show me how much you love me?” pleaded Frankie, pawing at the pretty pink straps on Annette’s fitted-yet-flouncy dress as she laid out his motley beach blanket.
“Sure Frankie, let’s get to know each other better,” said Annette as she sank down onto the blanket, sitting ladylike, but then slightly, suggestively, invitingly, spread her legs.
Frankie’s hands darted to Annette’s breasts, brazen in his desire for her fragrant body.
“Frankie, you promised you would always be true, and you weren’t.”
“What are you talking about Annette? I’m crazy about you, but I never made you any promises.”
“True, you never spoke vows to Annette, but you promised me. At your behest, I sent you not a duplicate of Venus, but it is truly I, the goddess of beauty, whom you have forsaken.”
Frankie was silent and starstruck, yet his hands couldn’t stop caressing.
“Your life is like still, shallow water and you are too blind to even see yourself. A man like you – you can only trust the lies,” said Venus, allowing Frankie to fumble with the zippers and clips gripping their individual garments together, and bodies apart, but eventually he loosened his bulging fly, prick brushing against her ambrosial bush as he slid inside her, triggering a sweet spot, which barbed one way, catching him. He paid no mind as he continued to buzz around her honey-scented hair, as Venus hugged her arms and wrapped her legs around Frankie, her pink pussy inviting him closer as her labia absorbed his ecstatic joy over the decomposition of his own ego, dissolving inside Venus as she digested his devotion.
A gold cloud came to lift Venus beyond this mortal mess, leaving behind a patch of Venus Fly Traps, which only grow native in Wilmington, NC, as a reminder against mortal men to consume the wonder of women at their own risk.
By Dena Merlino Scott, Halloween 2022