The Bottle

“What do you think is in that bottle?”

I turned to my 100-gallon fish tank, which was set atop black cabinets. She was pointing to a little glass bottle nestled in the black sand, semi-hidden among the new aquatic plants I added the other day.

Smiling, I faced her, admiring her form in that little dress with an orange trim. “What do you think is in it?”

She paused and considered it a bit, staring at the decor. I glanced at my little guppies. They were my absolute favorites, and it gave me great pleasure to see them swim about cluelessly in their bright hues.

A little crinkle formed on her brow. “I’d like to think that it’s a piece of paper. A kind of secret message someone placed in there for a random stranger to find.”

I chuckled into my wine glass. “Is that so? How romantic.” I placed one hand around her waist and moved her closer to me. Softly, I whispered into her ear, “What kind of message would that be?”

She shivered at the sound of my voice and unconsciously touched the ring on her left hand. “I don’t know. Maybe a love note for someone they hope to see again?” She then looked up at me and gave me a small smile. “What message do you think it has?”

Gently, I set my glass down at a nearby coffee table. Her orange dress rustled as I wrapped my arms around her. She started but did not object, and soon placed her arms around my neck. “I believe it is an SOS,” I murmured, looking deep into her eyes. “A lingering cry for help before a disaster came to fruition, a gesture done carelessly by a desperate soul in want of safe refuge.”

I touched her cheek and pressed my lips on hers. She sighed through the kiss while I slowly moved my hands upward, enjoying her curves, touching her skin, and, finally, feeling the delicate bones of her neck. With a quick movement, I had both hands on her nape and firmly pressed my fingers on her throat, breaking off the kiss to see her eyes widen at the constriction.

She struggled and tried to fight back, but she was helpless to my touch, like a fish drowning in water. Tears fell from her eyes as her head thrashed about, and she clawed at my hands, my arms, and my face. Still, I kept my tight grip on her, watching her flail and enjoying her powerlessness.

After a while, she stopped moving and fell limp in my hands. I laid her gently on the floor and admired my handiwork, grinning fiercely. What a lovely shade of pale!

I then turned to the cabinets under the tank and took out a new guppy I bought this afternoon. It was swimmingly weakly as I took it up with my net and added it to the tank. As soon as I released it in its new home, its orange tail danced about, as if happy to be in its new environment.

I just love my little guppies. It always gives me great pleasure to see them swim about cluelessly in their bright hues.

–
Image source: deviantart.com/plantfriendly/art/Guppy-fish-583814260
First written November 21, 2017.
#50