Red is hot. It's a strong color that conjures up a range of seemingly conflicting emotions from passionate love to violence and warfare. Red is Cupid and the Devil

Cupid and the Devil, love and hate. It's the color that surrounds her, not just because of her red hair. Sometimes it's the color that obscures my vision, the color that makes me want to shakes her till her teeth rattle, or take her up against the wall in her office. The line between lust and anger has never been so blurred as when she is around.

Red can increase the rate of respiration and raise blood pressure. She did that to me in more ways that one. Sometimes the minute she opened her mouth, my blood pressure would go through the roof, purely because she had this uncanny ability to infuriate me, and she did it on purpose. Then other times, the increased rate of respiration was nothing to do with irritation, but the fact that I had given in to the urge to take her against the wall.

The color red grabs people's attention and makes them take action. She certainly grabbed peoples attention and could make anyone do what she wanted, either with the warning flash of her eyes, the danger red, or the scarlet woman routine, where she would lean over someone, brush their arm slightly, and 9 times out of 10, the person would crumble. I, however, would see red when she did that. I couldn't explain to her that she was mine, had always been mine, even when she left Paris, she had still been mine, but I would see red and my hands would clench by my side until her eyes found mine and she would smile the smile that reminded me of the sunrise.

There were different shades of her red. The orange one, when she was in a good mood, breezing around, humming slightly to herself; the pink one where she was in a wistful mood, floating around with a dreamy look in her eyes, that only happened very occasionally; the deep, dark red, the one which would make everyone around her take cover. I didn't know which one was my favorite.

There were times when we would clash, and the red flag would be almost visible outside her office, signifying a coming battle. A battle of wills between two all consuming forces. Me and her, passion and desire, lust and anger, all mixing around her office, crashing into one another, both of us trying to ignore the strong pull of her scarlet passion radiating off her. Occasionally we would give in and fire and ice would meet. I think this was the red that I liked the most, the one that would make her cry out my name and scrape her nails down my back.

It had always been this way with us, and part of me thought it would always be. We would dance around each other, and then collide in fury of emotions, both of us hating ourselves for ignoring it and yet at the same time trying desperately to ignore the blood red love that was coursing through our veins.

One day with both gave up trying to ignore it, simultaneously, and it was just there, we didn't have to voice it, we both just knew. I no longer saw the bad shades of red, the flashing warning signs. I saw the good red, the red letter days, the red sky at night, and even though I am not a sailor, it was my delight.


For those of you that don't understand the bit at the end, there is an old wives tales that goes "Red sky at night, sailors delight, red sky in the morning, sailors warning."

V!

xox