CHRISTINE IN BLUE CH. 3 In a cold loft, lost amid the clutter of thousands of like lofts in the city, a woman lies upon her belly, the cold wood floor a stark contrast to her milky warmth. Red fishnets encase her legs, ending in a wide swath of red lace gripped around each thigh. Her eyes are fixed upward, into the darkness, filled with devotion, with lust. A tendril of blonde hair hangs into her face. Her breaths are ragged and seem to her to echo in the silence. "Come to me," a voice calls out. She hurries to obey, crawling across the bare boards with as much grace as she can manage. A black boot rests before her vision, for as instructed, she keeps her eyes cast downward. Tentatively, she reaches out her tongue, tasting the empty flavor of leather and an earthy scent of earth, hoping that she is pleasing. "Do you love me?" She answers as she has been taught to, by licking at the boot with more ardor, worshipping with more of her heart. Her heart feels so full, she offers up her love, her devotion, hoping she is communicating her emotion. Roughly, a hand pulls at her hair, stretching her head back painfully. A tremor of excitement runs through her and her eyes close. The hand twists in her hair and yanks harder, lifting her. She scrambles to her knees, careful to keep her eyes upon the floor. She is nothing. All meaning comes from these hands, these boots. Her only hope, her only wish, is to please; to please enough, well enough, in hopes of love. She feels the roughness of the rope as smooth hands wrap it slowly, methodically, around her neck. She winces as it tightens, inch by inch, digging painfully into her neck. A moment's panic grabs her, but she pushes it back down, knowing this is a test of her devotion, of her commitment to serve. Without realizing it, her eyes have raised until she is staring into the eyes of her world, her pleasure, her love. Without knowing any longer what she is doing, she reaches for the face, floating in the mist. The room grows darker and darker and she falls, trusting, into the dizziness and blackness. Her body grows weaker and weaker, until finally she moves no more. The rope cuts tight into her neck; her tongue hangs strangely from between scarlet lips. No longer bound by her will, her eyes stare at nothing, empty in death.