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Report Thread starter 6 years ago 1. It was approaching 10pm when Sophie and Sam were walking back to The Dorset hotel. They had just eaten at The Galvin Restaurant, and they elected to walk at an easy pace so as if to delay the end of their romantic excursion for as long as they could. During their dinner, Sophie was consumed by the same satisfaction that she always felt nowadays. Although the food tasted beautiful, Sophie could barely remember much about what she had eaten that night.
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The air between herself and her boyfriend Sam had been so electric that she feared she may have pounced upon him in front of all the rich and famous clientele that The Galvin was hosting that night. She enjoyed how much she herself softened. Sophie began to laugh out loud. To think he could make such a long speech about how one film is better than another.
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Sophie began to giggle. Sam kissed the top of her head, and only then did Sophie stop him. Their eyes met again, but Sophie had stopped giggling and smiling. The look upon her face spoke volumes. She wanted to be taken. It was in this moment when they would have kissed. But Sophie spotted someone across the street. She and Sam were all but stood outside The Dorset now, and the only person other than the mysterious figure Sophie was looking at was the Doorman, who was discrete enough to not look at their would-be tender moment. Sam turned around and led Sophie by the hand across the street to see who this person was.
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He was laying in the mouth of a dingy alleyway and looked in need of help, and Sam was always willing to offer that wherever and whenever he could. The figure belonged to a man around the same age as the two of them. He was incredibly dirty, with his shoulder-length hair greased and matted, dirt and stubble further ruining a face that was lined with care, worry and anxiety.
The man smelt faintly of cider and rolling tobacco. Sophie noted that, despite his age, he was dressed in tracksuit bottoms, a branded sportswear t-shirt and an Adidas jacket with one stripe partly missing down the left sleeve. The man looked up and his lip trembled. He beheld the couple in front of him in all of their majestic beauty, whilst already being surprised that anyone had spoken to him. He did not answer. The man looked up and his eyes widened in horror. She knew this man. It had been 7 years since she had last seen him, and had not thought about him once.
I thought if I hung around somewhere where there are rich people, I might be able to scrape enough together for-for…. The effect was enhanced by the thin film of moisture upon them and Sophie wondered how much he would cry when they left him. She laughed out loud at the obvious pain and anguish that flashed across his face. If Sam noticed anything, he gave no indication, and why would he? Sophie found herself quickly being led by the hand again. She and Sam made their way back across the street, into the hotel and made for their room. Sophie awoke at 2am, surprisingly alert and energised considering the physical demands of what Sam had done with her body.
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She stole to the window and looked out. Their room looked out across the front of the hotel, and Sophie spied the figure of one of her former conquests still sat in the mouth of his dingy alleyway. Her sense of mischief sparked. Sophie looked as breath-taking as she did a couple of hours ago, before she was ravaged by Sam, and perhaps even better now. She moved so easily she felt like she was almost floating. The sense of wickedness about her that was projected by the way her walk had become more of a strut, and the way her full, red lips were shaped into the hint of a smirk.
Sophie was a fan of black. Her long hair fell, sometimes in curls, to just above her lower back and she started to agree with what Sam said about it as she glanced at herself in a passing mirror. She smiled to herself. He was allowed a long-look, as Sophie progressed slowly whilst wearing her Black Jimmy Choo stilettos.
Sam had bought her these shoes for her last birthday months ago, but she had wanted this little holiday to be the first time she wore them. She chose to decorate her eyes with dark shadow applied in a smoke effect that she tutored other women to do via her thriving online blog. It made her eyes almost magnetic, and her sensational figure was almost forgotten whenever anyone looked into them, big, bright, innocent and doe-like.
For lipstick she chose red, although people rarely noticed anything about her mouth but her sincere, perfect white smile that she wore so easily and effortlessly. Being as style-savvy as she was, she had a thin red handbag in her small hands, nails varnished differing shades of red. Making a mental note to herself that she could post another nail-art tutorial, she crossed the street and soon found herself stood over the pathetic, dishevelled figure on the ground.
The man did not reply. As the novel continues, she moves easily from the waiting arms of her husband to intimacies with the wives of his business associates to further explorations and experiences in which the subtle aesthetics of eroticism are expounded — and enacted — to their fullest. As they venture further and further into the depths — both psychological and sexual — she begins, for the first time, to understand her troubled history and the self that has emerged from it. In that instant, the calm existence of this middle-aged New York City man becomes something unrecognizable: he wants revenge, but also something more.