The Flavors of the Orient
by Pretender_Mel


To many Americans of European descent, all Asian women looked the same. To Mr. Lyle, however, each one had a distinct flavor, exotic and tantalizing. He was going through the catalogues again, picking out new tastes to sample. He licked his finger and turned the page, already feeling the savory warmth of quivering entrails in his mouth. The page fell flat, and there she was. Perfection. He could tell in the way she carried herself, in the way she smiled. She wouldn’t be smiling for long once she had arrived in the States. This thought caused a grin to sweep across his face. He knew he was a sick man, but he just didn’t care.

Glancing up for a second, his eye caught a photo he had framed on his desk. It showed himself with two Vietnamese women, all three of them smiling. The backdrop was breathtaking, but paled in comparison to the beauty of the two girls. They had been his first. And still the best. Try as he might to top them, their flavors would linger in his memory until his dying day. Beautiful. Strong. Intoxicating. Perfect. His.


End.