The 'Femme Fatale'

Note: This was my first post to a group blog, Femme Fatale,  I recently joined. I intended it to be something to celebrate the diva in each and everyone of us girl. So girls, this is for you all!! With love~

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The sky growled and it thundered loudly. The earth was damp with heaven’s waters. Not a care of the world. She enjoyed it all, every drop of it. It was something she felt very close to. Rain… when her femininity seemed to come alive and take over her completely. The look in her eyes maddened him. He leapt to grab her hand, push her close to him but she escaped narrowly. Laughing and giggling, her eyes danced as the sound of her laughter spread like magic in the air. She was playing hard to get. The little crazy creature had him running after her for days, a trance that was taking over him with every passing day. He had to have her! There was no end to this madness that now raged within him like a wild fire. She was an amalgamation of beauty, femininity and something so vividly sexy. Her alluring mass of long, thick hair reminded him of wild waves… proud and powerful. Her eyes looked like innocence captured on canvas to the very perfection of a human hand.  But wait… she was giving him that look again… oh when she looked at him like that! Her eyes turned wicked now. It was a challenge. She was part angel, part devil, and the way she changed with them was what turned him on. She knew this game too well. Up until now, he charmed the very alluring of women, casting a spell on them till they could no longer bear to be without him. They flocked around him, some fought over him, some cheated for him, some claimed to have found a deeper meaning to love. But he knew it was pure lust, mere desires of the body, that were as momentary as they could really be. His fleeting affairs with the very “sought after” women had blessed him with an arrogant air about him. He was the kind of person who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer… but the beauty that his eyes beheld seemed to take immense pride in breaking every shred of manly ego he had in him when it came to his sensuality. He was frustrated now… and she was enjoying this.

“Listen to me!” he called out to her. She heard him alright, but she didn’t stop. She was pacing fast now, going further and further away. He followed her, deciding not to give in if that was what she wanted him to. Two steps more and she looked back. A smile at the end of her full lips and that touch of naughtiness in her eyes lighted something in him again. She walked in a steady rhythm now, a proud rhythm with sensual movements clearly visible as the rain drenched her on and on. He was under a spell. He knew he had let go of even the very last bit of pride in him by following her like that. But he was doing it, partially amazed at his helplessness.

It thundered again. He knew a chance when it came. He leapt forward, grabbed her by her tiny wrist and pulled her towards himself. He grinned to himself as her eyes looked at him in bewilderment. She put on a brave face and met his eyes boldly. The eyes were doing it again. With a blink they were soft, like a baby’s, but continued to grow aware of their power as the gaze held longer. He was watching her now. Closely. The way her damp hair fell on her face… tiny drops of water trickling down her high cheekbones, down onto the earth from her delicate chin… Strangely, she smelled of the fragrance of damp earth… no... She smelled of jasmines… it was hard to make out. Her eyes blazed with a passion new to him. He had only seen weak women till now, the ones that were weak at heart and character, the ones who’d do anything to get him for a one night stand, hence his low opinion of women. But this girl seemed to challenge his entire knowledge about the female sex. She was hard to get, harder to soften up, impossible to tame. She had an air of dignity; an inner strength one couldn’t help sensing. Yet she seemed like the rest, alluring, sensual, suave. She knew the power she had over him and she knew the art of using it. Yes, it was an art for her. She was like a painter, painting his heart with a new color with wild strokes of her brush that almost killed him each time. Her full lips had an enticing delicacy to them that added to the glamour she shone with. He had never felt so numbed. He had never known the power of a woman over him. Had it been anyone else, he would have found himself in a momentary complex, yet she had a strange grace that whispered all his fears off. It was her “saving grace”, he decided to call it that. His arrogance faded and he softly let her hand go. She blew a kiss and she laughed and walked away, enjoying the rain as an innocent child would… wild and free.

She was “femme fatale”… in the best of the meanings. She could slay his heart with one look if she wanted to… yet she chose to show him something he never knew. She knew how to create magic; she knew well how to burn something wild and unforgiving in him. Her body could create desires untamed, yet her generosity could rouse a love that also knew how to gain respect and admiration. 

She was, in every way, a woman. The perfect femme fatale.

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picture courtesy: deviantART