Janus Smile

This may be more Halloweenie, I don't know. I treated it as a fun, but macabre (with subtle, controversial undercurrents), story. A quick scare.

Janus smile is accompanied by another image from Francesco D'Isa. His digital art presents the female form, and all the feminine mysteries, in a daring manner.

Janus Smile

She’d worn the headscarf ever since she could remember, specifically since her head began to ache, and her upset mother decided to obscure the possible cause. The voices then followed, usually at the dead of night. It was a sweet child-like voice, not unlike hers, that danced against her ear. She thought it a dream, until she started conversing with it.
Shielded from ordinary schools, her parents took turns home schooling her. She topped her matriculation examinations, thanks to her friend. During the light of day, her friend slept. Her parents assumed that it was another aberration, with the exception of it being non-existent in any of the illustrious medical journals. For many years, she listened to the voice; she amassed so many stories, that she easily identified with Scheherazade, all thanks to the voice. When it came time to satisfy everyday errands, her mother inspected her to ensure she wore her headscarf properly.
“You can’t risk it,” she said.
Therefore, she’d turn for her mother to peer under the folds to make sure the safety pins held it in place.
Her 21st birthday came, and went. Her secluded life, filled with volumes of books ranging from classics to the most recent woman’s magazine, revolved around being a homebody. She’d sigh, and the voice caught her out. It wasn’t terrible to not have hair, it told her. But she’d like it, that was all she knew only for the voice to fade away into the darkness, giving her the silent treatment as it were.
Friends?
The voice was her only friend, and the only male she’d come to know. At night, just after her coming of age, it asked her about her secret thoughts. She shifted to her side and told it to go to sleep.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“Shh, they’ll hear you.”
There, within the dark confines of her room, she confessed that she often thought about knowing other men, and on the odd occasion, she entertained fantasies of her with other women. The voice needed to listen to her thoughts, asked her to detail each vista. She confessed that she’d seen a woman at the news stand, on the way to the grocer. The woman wore a red cotton dress that curved around the hip and thigh; the shape enticed her, prompting further thoughts on the texture beneath the dress, and further along, bending over to pick up a heavy box, was a courier who looked to be around her age. Oh, she liked his look, and could only imagine…
“Did you want to undress her or have her undress?”
“Both…the man and woman…”
“I can feel something…” a soft moan plunged through the pillow. She ran her hand over her belly, and down toward her springy, yet damp, thatch of pubic hair. She then heard the voice pant, and turned over onto her stomach, to enable it to breathe.
“You are such a naughty girl,” it said, urging her to satisfy her urges to the best of her ability, “If you aren’t sure, I’ll try to help you.”
She rubbed her sex, and listened to the deepening voice in the darkness.
“Slide your finger between those wet lips…Not those lips…”
The light tingle at the base of her spine raced upward.
“This feels nice…”
She squeezed her thighs together, locking her finger in place. The electric crackle within her encouraged her to reach inside herself. Her excitement grew, until she established a smooth, wet momentum. The hoarse voice told her how good it felt, how nice it was to fuck her. She shuddered shortly after.
“I’d like to do that again,” she whispered.
“Oh we will…”

Life ran smoothly. Her parents, relieved to see their daughter travel through life without complaint became worried after the steady rise of discontent that followed many world events. Her father told her to be careful, that the headscarf brought more worry but she didn’t care. That afternoon, as her mother waited outside, she caught sight of the face behind the voice inside a fitting room. Instantly smitten, she stepped outside with an added spring in her step.
That night they played, and she reanimated its amber eyes while her fingers strummed her sex. And its mouth? If only she could sample its rosy, full lips.

~~

She decided to sneak out of the house. It had been a long time, three years, since she’d taken a walk in the nearby park. Her parents kept her indoors at the onset of the passing four Septembers, and each basic errand transformed into a supervised excursion. Her parents accompanied her almost everywhere, and sometimes she’d have to ignore other voices, from real people, who’d point her out and call her names.

“I wish I could take it off,” she told her mother, only for her mother to gape in shock.
“You can’t do that. Not here.”
“How bad could it be?”
Her mother rolled her eyes.

She turned into the narrow street, on her way to the newsstand. The latest issue of Glamour hit the shelves, and she wanted to read up on the hair styles she’d never flaunt.
“We need to hurry,” the voice whispered. She walked halfway, and turned to see a ragged burly man walk a short distance behind her. His muddy cold eyes scanned her body, and stopped at her scarf.
“Hey bitch…Yeah you!”
Panic lodged in her throat.
“You tea towel wearing bitch…I'll show you...”
He ran up to her, and she stumbled forward, tripping over the gutter.
His hands gripped her arms and pulled her upward.
“I heard that you girls stay virgins until you marry. Is that true?”
He sprayed her with warm drops of spittle as he spoke, and backed her up against the concrete wall. Her eyes fluttered, she looked from side to side.
“No one’s gonna hear you…”
She found herself facing the wall, and wailed as he shoved his hand between her legs.
“You’re going to love this, bitch…”
His fingers gripped the headscarf, and gave it a couple of tugs. A sharp pain at the nape of her neck, shot up toward her scalp.
“Ouuuch…”
“Your pussy will be glad to see me,” he laughed, and yanked the scarf off, “W-Wha…”
Her head tilted backward, and her body followed. She tried to shake herself away, but her shoulders shuddered as her head swiveled from side to side. The rigor near exhausted her, and her nostrils absorbed his sweat. This was followed by something else, a moist metallic odor that followed an audible, wet bite. His clear screams, became flooded, almost muffled to a soft wet gurgle.
“That’ll teach you…” the voice said, “Are you all right?”
“I’m…” she turned round, and saw the man on the pavement, clutching the lower half of his mangled face.
“What did you do?”
“Remedied his uncouth mouth…”
A trail of blood, from the man’s mouth, led to a crimson fleshy mass.
“He won’t be speaking anytime soon.”
She retrieved her scarf, and fixed it in place. The man’s terrified eyes gazed upward as she turned.
“A Ahhh oouuu?” he gurgled.
She bent forward to inspect his wounds and his teary eyes widened as her gold crucifix dangled over his crimson face, glinting in the afternoon light.
“Teaches you to judge a book by its cover asshole,” she bid him farewell with a swift kick in the groin.

END

*Janus - Roman God, depicted with two faces.