He had a pretty mouth. This I know for sure. Straight, pearl white teeth protruding from soft pink gums. Behind them, a pink tongue that probably held many pleasures in it. His top lip was thin, coming up into two arches in the center, forming an M. His bottom lip was fuller, mostly near the center tapering into the points where top and bottom met.
I don't remember anything else about him. Not his eyes or nose or ears. I couldn't tell you what color hair he had or even the color of his skin. I couldn't tell you if he were tall or short, fat or thin or how he looked in his clothes. I don't know what his voice sounds like, even though he had talked to me many times before.
All I remember is his grin. His silver grin. It was like something out of a fairy tale, like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. The Cheshire cat was always playing a disappearing act, his grin being the last thing to vanish, its teeth straight and haunting. That was his grin. His silver grin.
What's his name? Don't ask... I don't know.
All I can remember is the grin. And what the mouth did.
She had been kissing those lips; those perfect lips. The woman had stood by the wall, her
back leaning against it, feeling the cool of the red brick building it comprised. The grin had walked up to her, began talking in what I have often imagined to be a sexy and seductive voice. I have often thought if I could have heard his voice, the soothing reassurance that I know would come from it, he could have taken me also. But, I hadn't heard his voice. I only saw the woman.
And the grin.
I saw lips on lips, passionate and wanting. The woman's lips were buried in the grin's. I
saw her hand come up, touching what is probably the smoothest skin, rich in whatever pigment it was (damn, I wish I could remember!). I saw her hand reach behind the grin's head, running through its hair, be it black, brown, red or blond; the hair that probably felt like silk on her fingers.
I stood by the lamppost, waiting for my bus to come, watching the two kissing feverishly.
For a moment I felt a desire to be the woman against the wall, kissing those lips, touching the mouth that formed that grin. But that desire was gone quickly.
The woman's eyes grew wide; fear dancing in them, then grew wider, still. A trickle of blood spilled from the side of her mouth, ran down her chin and onto her throat. She tried to scream, but the lips covering her mouth held the scream between their two throats.
I saw the mouth working, steadily chewing as the woman tried to get free. Her hands hit at the mouth, its head and arms. They clutched at its hair, pulling and tugging, trying to get some sort of leverage to work with.
The mouth held its place, its chewing continuing as blood poured down the woman's chin and throat, soaking into her purple shirt, turning it a wet black.
The woman's head snapped back, hitting against the brick wall of the building. Blood spurted from her mouth as she slid down the wall and to the ground. Her body sat, crumpled against the wall. Her lips were gone, a bloody mass of flesh above and below where they had once been. Her teeth were still there, but between her gaping jaws I saw her tongue was missing. Chewed off and swallowed by the mouth whose silver grin was all I could remember about the man it belonged to.
I watched as the figure turned to me. I wish I could remember his eyes, his nose, or something else about him. But as I watched its perfect lips glossed over with what looked like blood red lipstick, its teeth triangular and sharp, dripping in blood, I knew I would only remember his grin.