Do you remember the evening that we first met? Of course you do. Everybody always remembers the first time they met me. Whether you became my intimate partner after my carefully executed seduction, whether I admitted you to my outer circle or whether you were there to serve me a drink, everyone always remembers the first time they encountered me. It is invariably the beginning of something memorable. But, let’s not be concerned about my coterie, the minions and the strangers, this is all about me. And you. Do you remember on that first meeting what I told you. Yes, I appreciate that I told you many things. Plenty about me, naturally but I also told you many things about you. Yes, you remember don’t you, I can tell. I told you how magnetic your eyes were. You blushed when I mentioned this but I could tell by your reaction that someone else had said something similar to you before. You looked down, those long lashes, defined by the mascara that you applied so carefully a couple of hours earlier. I knew you enjoyed that compliment and I knew that you did think you had attractive eyes. Nobody had called them magnetic before, that much was evident, but you had been told you had beautiful eyes, stunning eyes and such like. Of course I exceeded those standard and quite frankly trite observations with my reference to how “your optimistic eyes held paradise”, “your eyes possessed all manner of desire including the wanton” and “your eyes shone with the inner brightness that so many of us find so delightful.” Great descriptions and they always have the desired effect of prompting a pleased response and a compliment in return. One always looks to give to receive. There is no other way.
I always harked back to your eyes didn’t I? Referring to them in complimentary terms and then as I held you I looked deep into your eyes, holding your gaze, allowing the silent to speak for itself as your body tingled with the heightened anticipation of such a passionate gesture. You never wanted to break that gaze, your almond-shaped eyes, possessing that scintillating emerald colour, that sea-like sapphire hue, that forlorn yet enchanting grey, that dark brown that simmered with sensuality, remain transfixed by my own stare. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said as our eyes remained locked together and the emotion poured from those eyes. Such expression resided inside your eyes and on so many occasions I drank deep of the fuel that sprang, well-like, from your gaze. I would enter a room and the delight you sent my way as your eyes widened was edifying. Such expression. From the narrowing in frustration, the wild-eyed grip of anger, the rounded surprised joy, the burning passion, the simmering elation, the eye-rolling orgasmic and the pain-filled tears. Your eyes had it all. I spent so long in your eyes. I often needed no more than you to look my way. It was unnecessary for you to speak, to gesture or to come closer. The emotion which you managed to gather in your expressive eyes was quite something to behold. Of course, I was always the catalyst. Without me you would have no need to provide such a range of heightened emotions. Without me you would not have been able to experience that wide range of emotions and allow them to form and flow from your eyes. As ever, I taught you and I guided you, ensuring that you did as was required. Expert that I am, I noticed your eyes from the first time that I ever placed my own and you. I knew from that moment that I needed to possess those eyes,make them my own, capture them so that they only ever looked my way. Your gaze was never meant for others. They were beneath you and clearly far beneath me. They were never meant to be the beneficiaries of such magnificence from your eyes. It was not for them to experience the prime fuel you generated. Only I was entitled to this. Only I was to receive such a reward and it was right and proper, for I invested much of my time in ensuring that the looks you gave me covered every emotion and providing that high-grade fuel. I encouraged and guided that use of your eyes, like a conductor with his orchestra. I told you when to emphasise them with mascara, eye liner and eye shadow. I dictated when they should be bare and look up on me in naked innocence. I instructed when you should wear spectacles and when you should not. I forbade excessive drinking for those eyes should never be bloodshot from alcohol, although that condition was permissible as a consequence of your upset.
So yes, back when we first met, it was your eyes that gained my rapt attention, my compliments and my flattery as I sought to possess them. I was most attentive and recognised what I stood to gain from your impressive eyes. I looked upon them and I looked into them and that is where I saw something. I saw something in your eyes which mattered more than anything else in the world. What I saw in your eyes was the very thing that made me know that you were the one who had to be chosen. That something which I saw convinced me to ensure I bound you to me. I looked into your eyes and I saw something. I saw myself.