Seduction by Various

Author:Various [Edited by Lindsay Gordon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ebury Publishing
Published: 2009-02-05T05:00:00+00:00

Not Knowing It

Charlotte Stein

HE’S SUCH A dark horse, that’s the thing. Always with that peaked cap pulled down low over his eyes, and those eyes always pretending to be naked and vulnerable and like they’re telling you everything.

But they don’t really tell you anything.

He has none of the flat bland allure that the conventionally handsome usually have, and so none of that easy by-the-numbers readability, either. Back in college, when he read out that gross fat chick story, his face should have read: I hate you, gross fat chick.

But it didn’t. It read like nothing, as it does now.

‘Hey Hobbs,’ he says, and kisses my cheek – awkwardly – and then we sit down – awkwardly – and wait for the rest of our former writing group. Also awkwardly.

I guess it’s always been that way between us. I’m too aware of how handsome he is and he’s too aware of how unfuckable I am and it’s all because he’s not like Ryan, all charming and able to banter with me, and I’m not like Kate, all cute and confident.

‘So how’ve you been?’ he asks, and I don’t know. Good, I guess. Good enough that I don’t care about what he thinks of fat chicks.

Though I still think about it when Kate and Ryan get here, and everyone’s talking all at once. I fade into the background and remember every inch of that story he read out, more sure than ever that he wrote it as an answer to some of mine.

Mine were celebratory, voluptuous, sunk deep in a sensual blur. Never focusing on an excess of hip or breast, but brushing over them, soft as gossamer.

His was morbid in its detail. The deep dimples that crowned her buttocks, the ripples of flesh undulating under his main character’s hands, the creases and folds and slopes. And the sad-sack loser obsessed with it all, as though no normal man could ever be interested in anything like that.

But I do remember a line from his story – one line in particular – that was as lovely as his story was obviously not intended to be.

The soft crushed velvet of her skin that begs for my body.

Yes. I remember that.

He thinks I begged for his body. I’m sure he does. We’re all sat around drinking too much, lounging on beanbags like harem denizens, sharing stupid fantasies just like the good ole days, and I’m sure he expects me to say: you.

You were my fantasy. You were right; I wrote those honeyed stories about a glittering honeyed land for you, Julian. The head of my queen’s harem was modelled after you and your long liquid limbs and your limpid unreadable eyes and that sultry cast of your sultry mouth.

That’s what he thinks I will say, but then I guess he doesn’t know me half as well as I know handsome men. He wrote that gross story to ward me off – keep away from me, fat chick! We handsome men can’t be touched by the

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