The Heart-Shaped Box: Welcome to Eden (Part One)
Welcome to Eden.
Or, Eden's Den, rather.
Here, you are sure to find something quite heavenly indeed.
So long as pussy is your flavor.
Pardonnez-moi, monsieur! Where are my manners?
Entrez-vous chez "Eden's Den", our hidden, secluded, decidedly illicit, members-only "lap-sitting" club, tucked away on this industrial lot in Detente City's most notoriously colorful hot spot.
My hand-crafted selection of painfully exquisite painted-ladies have NO need for your pleasantry.
My girls know what you are here for, mon amour.
Around these parts we prefer to cut to the chase.
Who needs small talk, anyway?
Were you REALLY going to invite an Angel to your latest board meeting, Mister CFO of __________?
Is it truly an evening of fine dining for which you wish to buy out our beloved Cookie, the Den's third- in- line mademoiselle, at your cookie-cutter country club?
Bien sur, I agree! I surely must have misheard.
Perhaps you are unaware, but the charmingly cavalier nature of the particular breed of Eve you will find here is exactly what has kept The Den in business after all these years.
May I be frank?
I am more than happy to assure you that we are veritably untouched by the local livestock. Pigs, shall we say?
We are, however, frequented by those of the floating world...The most highly esteemed. The almighty Whales, naturally.
And, besides, who would ever want to ruin a sure thing?
I am the Madam-in-Training of this establishment, monsieur.
I send only the 'Creme des bitches' to the horny, hungry, perpetually hard, ever-so-eager members of the card-carrying league of the State.
Alas, why do you seem so suddenly surprised?
The Truth does not hurt. In fact, it feels reeeeeally, reeeeeeally good, sugar.
As a matter of fact, The Truth likes to whisper.
She LOVES to shout.
And for a small, precious fee, The Truth can gag upon your silver spoon, devouring your pearly- white goodness,
Or allow it to stream slowly. All over your cocktail napkin.
In two to three minutes FLAT- if you're the impatient type.
And most pigs are.
She rules this town.
But she does not rule The Den.
That title belongs to the filthiest, kinkiest, most low-down damsel of them all.
Our Most Heavenly Duchess, a breath-takingly beautiful bombshell.
The greatest mind-fucker of all time.
The Dearest White Witch in the history of our city of Detente, Lady Porcelain
Nee Tessa Delacourt, our shining angel has risen rather quickly to our top rank due to her inherent powers of seduction and eroticism.
Porcelain likes it HARD down here on the Pleasure Strip.
She has an endless appetite for men, their money, and the driving, animalistic force beneath their fine linen trousers.
I must caution you to be prudent, my love.
Lady Porcelain will mindfuck your pocket, your penis, and your belief in your own shadow.
Until you've gone soft.
Porcelain detests broken men.
Nevertheless, her tantalizing cunt has the power to fondle your pockets until it is made abundantly clear.
To you and everbody else.
That you are inconsequential.
She will have stopped caring.
You will cease to exist in her world.
In our world.
Nothing. A blip. A waste of space.
Still, she will continue to smile.
Peer at you innocently beneath her luscious mink and impossibly long lashes.
Purse her Chanel lipstick-laden lips,
Flash her Sphinx-like grin
Carefully conceal the genesis of her spoiled rotten nature.
Part her supple, shapely thighs in your direction.
Thrust her prize-won tits towards your lonely heart.
Massage your neck with her perfectly manicured nails;
Toss her voluminous blonde tresses about,
Poison the air you breathe with the sweet scent of jasmin and lavender tea;
Lower her sinfully seductive lids, shielding her enticingly doe-like sea-green eyes,
Extend her long, lean legs petulantly
Showcasing her dainty feet, bound in black,
Her trademark "bitch" Alexander McQueen stilettos are her calling card---
The men who worship her have paid dearly with their own.
Sir, simply to arrange a proper introduction would require considerably more of your salary than any "gift" you have ever procured for any other 'temporary soulmate.'
Or even your wife, for that matter.
I am afraid Our Lady may find you pathetic; earnestly awaiting a pity-fuck.
Ah, I see. You are, indeed, still waiting, I take it?
Oh, yes, I am certain that Porcelain is aware of this.
That is EXACTLY why she smiles.
That is precisely why she giggles ever-so-coquettishly at your jokes.
Did she REALLY lead you to believe you were funny?
Damn, she's good.
And THAT is why she is here.
Porcelain is our lady-in-wait, par excellence.
Our little diamond devil-doll, who knows full well that you are quite capable of waiting a very long time.
She appears so serene, pleasing to the eyes and ears. Naive. Indifferent.
I know better.
When Our Duchess decides to strike, you will have never seen it coming.
Poor thing! That little luciferina knows you like the Lord's prayer.
Beware. This IS paradise, after all.
"Welcome to Eden."
************ End of Part One**
-An Erotic Short Story, written by Sandra London of To Live and Grind in L.A.
(Completed at 8:30am on 04/30/2011)