with blueeyedboy , whose platonic love for an unnamed girl echoes her own unrequited passion for Angel Blue.
Cap’s advice is rather more crude. Just fuck her and get it over with , he advises, in the world-weary tone of one trying vainly to hide his own inexperience. When the novelty wears off, you’ll see she’s just like all those other bitches, and you’ll be able to get back to what matters . . .
Toxic agrees, and pleads for me to write up the intimate details in my WeJay. The dirtier the better , he says. And by the way, what’s her cup size?
Albertine rarely comments. I sense her disapproval. But chrysalisbaby responds to what she sees as my hopeless romance. Even a bad guy needs someone to love , she says with awkward sincerity. You deserve it, blueeyedboy, really you do . She does not offer herself, not yet, but I sense the longing in her words. Any girl would be lucky, she hints, to earn the love of one such as I.
Poor Chryssie. Yes, she’s fat. But she has good hair and a pretty face, and I have led her to believe that I prefer the chubby ones.
The problem is that I play it too well. She now wants to see me on webcam. For the past couple of weeks she has been talking to me through WebJournal, sending me personal messages, including photos of herself.
Y can’t i C U? she messages.
Out of the question, I reply .
Y? U ugly?
Yeah. I’m a mess. Broken nose, black eye, cuts and bruises all over me. I look like I went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. Trust me, Chryssie. You’d run a mile.
4 real?? What happened?
Someone took exception to me. ?
O!!! U mugged?
I guess you could call it that.
!!! Oh, fuck, oh, babe, i just wanna give U a great big hug.
Thanks, Chryssie. You’re very sweet.
Does it hurt??
Dear Chryssie. I can feel the sympathy coming from her. Chryssie loves to nurture, and I like to feed her fantasy. She’s not quite in love with me – no, not yet. But it wouldn’t take much to draw her in. It’s a little cruel, I know. But isn’t that what bad guys do? Besides, she brings these things on herself. All I do is enable them. She’s an accident waiting to happen, for which no one could possibly hold me to blame.
Babe, tell me what happened , she says, and today I think maybe I’ll humour her. Give a little, take a lot. Isn’t that the better deal?
All right then – babe . Whatever you say. See what you make of this little tale.
10
You are viewing the webjournal of blueeyedboy posting on:
[email protected]
Posted at : 14.35 on Thursday, January 31
Status : public
Mood : amorous
Listening to : Green Day : ‘Letterbomb’
Blueeyedboy in love. What? You don’t think a killer can fall in love? He has known her for ever, and yet she has never really seen him, not once. He might have been invisible as far as the woman he loves is concerned. But he sees her : her hair; her mouth; her small pale face with its straight dark brows; her bright-red coat in the morning mist like something out of a fairy tale.
Red is not her colour, of course – but he doesn’t expect her to know that. She doesn’t know how he likes to watch through his telephoto lens; noting the details of her dress; the way the wind catches her hair; the way she walks with such precision, marking her passage with near-imperceptible touches. A hand against this wall, here; brushing against this yew hedge, turning her face to catch the scent as she passes the village bakery.
He is not a voyeur, he thinks. He acts for his own protection. His instinct for self-preservation has been honed to a point of such accuracy that he can sense the danger in her, the danger behind the sweet face. It may be the danger he loves, he thinks. The fact that he is walking a dangerous line. The fact that every stolen caress through the lens of his camera is potentially lethal to him.
Or it may just be the fact that she belongs to somebody else.
Until now he has never been in love. It frightens him a little: the intensity
Cap’s advice is rather more crude. Just fuck her and get it over with , he advises, in the world-weary tone of one trying vainly to hide his own inexperience. When the novelty wears off, you’ll see she’s just like all those other bitches, and you’ll be able to get back to what matters . . .
Toxic agrees, and pleads for me to write up the intimate details in my WeJay. The dirtier the better , he says. And by the way, what’s her cup size?
Albertine rarely comments. I sense her disapproval. But chrysalisbaby responds to what she sees as my hopeless romance. Even a bad guy needs someone to love , she says with awkward sincerity. You deserve it, blueeyedboy, really you do . She does not offer herself, not yet, but I sense the longing in her words. Any girl would be lucky, she hints, to earn the love of one such as I.
Poor Chryssie. Yes, she’s fat. But she has good hair and a pretty face, and I have led her to believe that I prefer the chubby ones.
The problem is that I play it too well. She now wants to see me on webcam. For the past couple of weeks she has been talking to me through WebJournal, sending me personal messages, including photos of herself.
Y can’t i C U? she messages.
Out of the question, I reply .
Y? U ugly?
Yeah. I’m a mess. Broken nose, black eye, cuts and bruises all over me. I look like I went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. Trust me, Chryssie. You’d run a mile.
4 real?? What happened?
Someone took exception to me. ?
O!!! U mugged?
I guess you could call it that.
!!! Oh, fuck, oh, babe, i just wanna give U a great big hug.
Thanks, Chryssie. You’re very sweet.
Does it hurt??
Dear Chryssie. I can feel the sympathy coming from her. Chryssie loves to nurture, and I like to feed her fantasy. She’s not quite in love with me – no, not yet. But it wouldn’t take much to draw her in. It’s a little cruel, I know. But isn’t that what bad guys do? Besides, she brings these things on herself. All I do is enable them. She’s an accident waiting to happen, for which no one could possibly hold me to blame.
Babe, tell me what happened , she says, and today I think maybe I’ll humour her. Give a little, take a lot. Isn’t that the better deal?
All right then – babe . Whatever you say. See what you make of this little tale.
10
You are viewing the webjournal of blueeyedboy posting on:
[email protected]
Posted at : 14.35 on Thursday, January 31
Status : public
Mood : amorous
Listening to : Green Day : ‘Letterbomb’
Blueeyedboy in love. What? You don’t think a killer can fall in love? He has known her for ever, and yet she has never really seen him, not once. He might have been invisible as far as the woman he loves is concerned. But he sees her : her hair; her mouth; her small pale face with its straight dark brows; her bright-red coat in the morning mist like something out of a fairy tale.
Red is not her colour, of course – but he doesn’t expect her to know that. She doesn’t know how he likes to watch through his telephoto lens; noting the details of her dress; the way the wind catches her hair; the way she walks with such precision, marking her passage with near-imperceptible touches. A hand against this wall, here; brushing against this yew hedge, turning her face to catch the scent as she passes the village bakery.
He is not a voyeur, he thinks. He acts for his own protection. His instinct for self-preservation has been honed to a point of such accuracy that he can sense the danger in her, the danger behind the sweet face. It may be the danger he loves, he thinks. The fact that he is walking a dangerous line. The fact that every stolen caress through the lens of his camera is potentially lethal to him.
Or it may just be the fact that she belongs to somebody else.
Until now he has never been in love. It frightens him a little: the intensity
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