As soon as he woke he noticed it: the door lay slightly ajar – a yellow shaft of freedom spilling into the bedroom. He needed to hurry: she would wake soon, and the moment would be lost. He knew he’d never be able to leave her when those deep, controlling, blue eyes looked upon his soul.
Even though he understood the urgency of the moment he still paused – he couldn’t help it: her beauty required one last look. Shimmering, blond tresses spilled from silken pillows over the side of the bed; long, slender fingers rested gently on the pure, white sheets. Briefly she stirred, her eyes flickered open only to gracefully glide closed. He had to go, otherwise he would remain trapped – forever under her spell.
The light from the hallway became brighter. The single shard of early morning sun now all but covering his hushed footsteps. He was nearly there. Behind him he heard movement, a silken pillow falling to the floor. From above the light from the hall suddenly dulled.
Looking upwards, her deep blue eyes narrowed as they once more watched her prey. Her long pale fingers firmly held the stem of the upturned wine glass. She hadn’t finished with him just yet.
These words form my entry into this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction challenge.