Brian Cook's Blog

Kak stripped quickly, leaving her clothes where she stood. Cloaking her naked body in the fur, she ran her hands over its smooth elegance, put them in her hair and tousled it out of place. As if by the act she’d set the clock back to when the gods walked the earth.

She turned out the bathroom light and crossed the room to open the curtains. The silk lining of the coat slipped across her hips, thighs and breasts with each step she took. The moon had risen. She pulled at the curtains to let the glow fill the room.

If giving a man everything he wanted and then taking it away didn’t bring him low, what would? And if ejecting him from bargaining and into depression didn’t send her the other direction, into anger, then nothing could and she was screwed anyway.

The rum. She circled into the bathroom, uncapped the bottle in the low light and flipped the two water tumblers on the counter right side up. Pouring each of them a third full, she carried them to the window, into the moonlight.  The rays bouncing in from the water lit up the rum in a ghostly phosphorescence.

“Rudy.”

“Yeah?” he called from the sitting area. 

“Come here.”

She raised a glass to her lips and downed it, feeling the heat build in her mouth and throat, the inferno plunging into her empty stomach. If she had to be consumed by fire in the belly of Cetus she wasn’t doing it in chains. If she was going to burn she’d by-god do it with her hands free.

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