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in the business of the mondain, I often forget who I am. We are like the drops from a perfume bottle, we are pulverised into the world, separated into so many particles that leave behind a lingering, pleasant scent, yet within minutes we are absorbed by everything around us, transformed into a uniform aroma, and dissolved slowly into nihilism by every person who wants to inhale us.
“What’s so different in a username then?” his tone filled with genuine confusion. “They are trivial, a string of letters, numbers, characters. A combination of desire and mystery. They are the masks behind which we hide our true selves. We choose them, we can change them whenever we please to match our shifting persona... we might wear at least ten different faces, so why not have ten different usernames?”
postpone her falling asleep for a few more moments, to write in her diary, “I never felt so alone as today, I could hear every scream of silence, a silence spoken by everyone that I wanted to hear from. If a tree falls in a forest but there's nobody around to hear it, Did it make a sound? If I fall will anyone be there to hear my descend? Every whispered murmur heard from the
Even when an actress isasked to shed it all for a film, that snippet becomes a blockbuster moment... those self-proclaimed gentlemen who attend cabaret shows call those performers talented artists. Yet dismiss us camgirls entirely, even if we have similar performances. They say to themselves they are not interested in nudity, they savour the art behind it. It is the hypoc risy ofit all.
the computer hummed quietly, as a remnant of the previous occupant’s presence. A dim, pulsating red light emerged from a corner of the room. The same light Molly has seen for several weeks, months, years maybe, so long its origin was lost in the folds of her memory. A silent reminder of the night she had first encountered it.
Admirations for her body, praises for the art of her dancing performance, and declarations of love flowed into the chat. The demand for her green eyes was insatiable, a feverish obsession which gripped everyone who beheld the power to captivate souls
His pen danced feverishly over paper... “Hypolite, felt his love was like a statue... who’s only dream was to reach the sea, and did not realise in doing so, it would dissolve into its embrace. Was it worth it? At least in the last seconds of its existence, it savoured the caress of the warm waves as it slowly dissolved the life from it. Perhaps that is the definition of love: two souls dissolving into one.
With a heart both heavy and calm, a steady hand began to write a few reflective lines, an intimate record of the night’s charged events...She dated 25th May 2024...“Even I thoroughly despise Henry Miller’s work, good ideas can be extracted from bad books, as principles from bad experiences. Maybe his symbolism and metaphors on spiders has a valued comparison to women’s desire to trap men into their web of flirtation…
Consider a lion in the wild, there is a majesty in its untamed spirit. Yet when you see the same lion confined in a circus cage, his splendour is tainted by sorrow and pity...then lions looming over Christians in the Colosseum, the context transforms entirely. The lion is the same, it is the background, which is changing, thus comparing the different lions to their situations. Comparison is crucial.
echoed from a Paris attic, filled with the mingled scents of paint and old paper. Henri V.I. carefully arranged a breathtaking bouquet of lilies on an old oak table. The flowers’ petals, luminous and perfect, seemed to capture his admiration, prompting him to clap his hands in delight before proclaiming in a high-pitched tone: “You shall be my muse. Oh, delicate and wonderful creation, no wonder
Halfway across the globe... Craig was locked in the relentless rhythm of the stock exchange. But his latest days were going from bad to worse. Today’s numbers bled red, one after the other... Frustration etched into every line on his face...A notification popped in on his mobile. He took a bacterial wipe cleaned thoroughly every finger before reading...“Going live in one hour.”
Hours later, Charlie returned home from the hospital, clutching...a framed photo...“What is that?” she inquired...“On my way back,” he explained, a spark of excitement... “I stopped for a minute at a stall filled with relics of yesteryear. I saw this photo and couldn’t resist buying it. There’s a quote on it that struck me: ‘Perfection is required in order to be truly loved.’”Her response carried a deep, indignant
of Richard’s study, while clutching his novel as though it were both a treasure and a burden, he solemnly confessed in a tone of rigid submission, “I know what I’d need to do to make my book a success. But I would despise myself for it. I would need to make it more commercial, to sound more realistic contemporary, to pervert my writing. Has it really come to that point
His face, etched with the strain of guilt and inner conflict, as he mumbled, “All these sins, is because of those loose women. I tell you. It’s their fault. They tempt us too easily, and how are we supposed to resist this endless parade of seduction, naked bodies, alluring smiles that are everywhere? Every poster, every video, every show. Nudity is everywhere. They are like devils flirting in lace underwear.”
In a more intimate exchange, Edw4rd88 asked privately for a truthful answer, “Why don’t you, smoke?”Her reply took on a different cadence: “I think fire should only burn in love, in passion, and in erotism, not at the tip of a cigarette. Our lips are marvellous, delicate like flower petals. Why crush them with a smelly, dangerous, and bad tasting object?”Edw4rd88, clearly impressed, typed...
combusted into raw, unrestrained desire, lust flowing through all of his veins. No longer could he resist the allure of her exposed beauty...he reached out to seize the thin layer of her veil in a bid to uncover all...his fingers tangled in the silky threads, instead of engulfing her in an acceptance...The delicate veil continued to shift, as even more fine fragments of its material drifted away, yet Hypolite
No, not at all. Write what you feel. When you write, do not limit yourself to what you know.Capture every sensation, the aroma of a perfume, spray a few droplets and see what reaction it evokes, the cadence of music, listen to it and its lyrics and describe the sentiment, the tactile feel of a shirt. Your writing should be something the reader feels as deeply as you do. Books must be felt as much as seen
her eyes darted across timestamps and saved public chat conversations, each entry a dagger to her trust. Her breath hitched with each row: dates and times aligning with moments she assumed he was working late or out with friends.There were crass notes describing Molly’s body, her brow furrowed as she tried
Her whispered accusations grew into a venomous tirade as she blamed Molly entirely: “That is why she looked directly into the camera with those froggy-coloured eyes, flirting effortlessly, she was seducing him. She knew that he would figure out her gaze was just for him... she has no one to cuddle her? No boyfriend, just endless loneliness. Isolated in a world that only praises her for being provocative.
a bowl of ruby-red strawberries, a container of whipped cream, and on the table a dish of warm, silky liquid chocolate all beckoned with promise. In that moment, Charlie’s imagination took flight, he envisioned a playful, intimate scene, where he’d gently grasp his partner’s hips on the countertop, the touch igniting a surge of passion as he would be pouring melted chocolate all over her body
watching a group of women chatting animatedly near a fountain. Every once in a while, he pulled out a battered notebook to scribble a frantic burst of ideas, only to crumple the paper moments later. The scrap that survived the day bore the words scrawled in haste: “A muse. A muse, my kingdom for a muse,” a testament to the elusive inspiration, his most burning desire, which had haunted him all day.
There is a saying that within every person there are two battling beasts. I have a fierce lion, strong, smart, arrogant, and wise. Yet, his brilliance is marred by cruelty, insensitivity, cold calculation. He rules my mind...The other beast is in stark contrast and it gnaws at my soul, a wolf starved for decades. This wolf falls in love with ease...Molly asked, “So, which of these animals is winning now, Edw4rd88?”
His gaze, intense and unrelenting, explored every inch of her like a forensic search through forbidden memories. His eyes seemed to peel away the layers of her facade, exposing the secret persona she donned on camera. In an impulsive, yet calculated moment, Molly locked eyes with him. Meanwhile, unable to escape the conflict swirling inside her, she shifted her gaze to his companion, a tall and slender Nordic beauty, dressed in a
that could ever hide their true nature. Experience teaches you to listen carefully to the cadence of someone’s words, the peculiar turn of a phrase, those rare expressions, until you can sometimes tell who is hiding behind a username disguise. Though some masks are harder to peel away.” Edw4rd88’s eyes skimmed each word cabaret_seducer laid out, his
waking her senses and washing away the morning's lethargy. After drying off, she reached for the bottle of her preferred perfume with its notes of jasmine and amber, spritzing it lightly onto her bare skin where it lingered with a subtle, alluring scent. She slipped into a pair of high-waisted stretchy jeans