The Morality of Arthur Crimson

Not for the first time that night, Arthur Crimson asked himself just what the hell it was he thought he was doing.

The first time he had uttered those words was as he strode over to the pretty girl at the bar and asked to buy her a drink; this after just one pint. A bold feat for a man of his character, one that usually, severely lacked in anything that could be argued as confidence, not that he would be one for arguing but that is beside the point.

Two drinks later, some clumsy flirting and, completely by surprise, Arthur found himself naked in her bedroom, awaiting her return from ‘freshening up’. If he had known talking to girls was this easy, we would not have remained a virgin until he was 23, that’s for sure. He was practically shaking with excitement. This was not advantageous for keeping his little man alert so he proceeded to search the room for a distraction from the excitement of seeing a real life woman naked, an attractive one at that.

This woman was a minimalist, no ornaments, a few perfumes and nail varnishes dotted around. And a single photo frame. The gorgeous (hopefully naked) blonde in the bathroom, affectionally kissing an equally handsome man. He was one of those guys that even guys had to admit was good looking. Curious, Arthur picked up the photo, examining it closer, hoping that it was a photo of her parents, or perhaps a dead lover. He could handle dead lover, sure it was baggage, but who didn’t have baggage?

As he raised the frame, a simple glass and silver piece, the true beauty coming solely from the subjects of the photo it held, he heard the soft clink of metal against glass. He looked down and on the side, previously hidden by the frame was the unmistakable circle. A wedding ring of fine platinum.

Arthur’s little man stood at ease.

Just then, as though she had waited for him to find the evidence of her adultery, the beautiful blonde emerged. To ‘freshen up’ she had removed every inch of clothing. All except, Arthur was please to see, her stockings, which stopped at her thighs in a lace trim, and her black stilettos which made her legs look even more incredible. She leant against the door frame, not in a ‘I’m shy and do not wish to engage in life’ way that he had seen in so many of his other partners, but in a way that suggested thatif he didn’t fuck her right now, she might just collapse from her urges.

He licked his lips and she turned. Turned around. Very slowly. Letting Arthur’s eyes absorb every inch of her fine, tight skin. Facing him again she ran her index finger over her bright red lips, parting them slightly before allow it to slide down her neck, over the edge of breasts, down her midriff, to her hips and then further. Further down.

Arthur took a step towards her, slowly, as though she were prey that might run at any sudden movement. His eyes broke their feast of her beautiful body and flickered to the photo frame which he still held in his hands, to the wedding ring on the bedside table, to her eyes, to her breasts.

He asked himself just what the hell it was he thought he was doing.

And then he told himself to shut the fuck up.

The Woman

The woman gazed longingly out of her window, overlooking the neighbours gardens with their greener grass and more beautiful families. There was something picturesque about her with the sun gently breaking the cloud cover as her eyes cast over the lives of others.

Her long, thick dress covered the frumpiness that had begun to set in at her age. It was hot as hell under all the layers but it suited the tone in which she was due to return.

She had expected to live a life of deviance, that part was not surprising. She had never expected normality, but now, as she looked onto the nicer lives of her mirrored self, she longed for someone to call hers, somewhere to call her own. All she ever got was heartbreak and disappointment. Again, here, now, this was no different. 2015 could not provide her with a love, with a life, only a few short happy years before it was ripped from her yet again.

Perhaps 1878 could give her something that not other century had yet gifted her. Perhaps she would find herself looking out of another window, longing for more than her lot. Perhaps she would never find the one.