After signing the contract that is the first step to any worthwhile erotic relationship, Charlie Hunnam has pulled out of Fifty Shades Of Grey, removing himself in a sudden, abrupt way that left the movie throbbing with desire, only wanting him more. “Holy crap,” Universal Pictures said, its inner goddess reflexively clenching around the aching void that Hunnam had filled just moments ago, now left empty and quivering. Had Universal displeased Hunnam? The sense that it had disappointed him somehow made Universal tingle with dirty shame—shame that burned deliciously hot and low, deep inside the studio. But Hunnam wickedly refused to say anything, clearly getting off on being emotionally withholding in the way of all the world’s most desirable men, so long as they are also exceedingly wealthy, handsome, and a sketchy masturbatory construct loosely based on Twilight.
To see her drown .
I wrote a short story. I’m not sure if it’s accurate. I just wanted to see if it works. I wrote it after watching Charlene Kaye’s new Animal Love II video. Let me know what you think?
The whole time during the sessions, his heart was breaking.
He had initially signed up as a sort of honor, his sense of duty as a doctor overriding their past experiences as lovers. But as he gave the order for the newest treatment to his patient, his mind knew that it was never going to forget anything that happened between them. And it was conflicting , this sense of duty vs the emotional connection. How much did they go together? How much did they fray the already unraveling fabric of the tie between them?
She had always said that her love for him was a lot like stomach scraping the rusty pavement. He never really agreed with her, because a pavement was not iron or steel, it couldn’t rust in any way, could it? But just the other day , when they found her clutching the pair of scissors, it’s edges roughened and ragged, he understood what she meant.
A person was like iron, sides sharp and efficient, till he or she falls in love. It was like oxygen being breathed into the iron and water combined to give it life. It made the edges unusable and it would never cut again, but only very few could see the dull redness of the effect of so much oxygen and the life giving effect of water. Being in love was like becoming a beautiful dusty red, so different from the previous iron grey , cutting and dangerous.
The texture of being in love , however was different. It was raw. It was painful , it was just too much to feel , to bear.
That was what happened to her.
She felt too much.
She just FELT too much.
It drove her mad in the end. The confusion and pain of being so much in love with him made her utterly angry with him. The fights, the anger, the words she would just say again and again and again.
" Being in love was like drowning!" She had screamed. " I can’t do this. It’s too much, too much sensation. I just need to - to numb it all. "
She saw the water. She smiled. She cried. He couldn’t do anything. She jumped.
She had been dressed that white that day. He remembered that . She was dressed in white now, the outfit not restricting her movement. She always did look beautiful in white. But the colour was not her. She was red. She was fire and passion. She was life itself.
And now all she was was skin and bone and muscle. A vessel merely carrying what used to be and now wasn’t.
This was not her.
He burnt the letters that day, just to see something eat up all that was white and black and placid and set in stone. He burnt the films , the clothes they used to wear.
But now, under an assumed name , under his position as a Doctor, under the mask he and the nun orderlies had to wear, he had to drown her to make her breathe life again.
He closed his eyes.