Seduction is a Grapefruit

Her hips swayed into the room, her mood sultry and mock-pensive. The sharpness of each tap of her high heels layered a sheet of tension to the room's growing thick, nervous air that hung like velvet drapes. The dark seductress stood, gently eyeing the man she loved, her walloping heart the only element that could possibly betray her pumping excitement.

She turned the fruit over in her hands, the skin glossy and room-temperature. The knife slice brought her closer to the fruit, the sticky smell filling her nostrils as a pungent, ripe vapor. For a moment, she paused, examining the rounded perfection of the grapefruit, fingers aching to tear into the sweet citrus.

Her eyes traced the room---and as he saw her, she calmly froze, preventing an outward reaction; her mind, however, her very being, was troubled, tumultuous, and her mind felt like a mass of pulp. Slowly, she spoke, her voice tempting and smooth, sugaring her as he fell to her convincing sweetness.

She could see the eamless, thick rind, struggling to keep the juicy flesh from spilling over the sides onto the bare table. She reached for the sugar bowl, tapped a spoonful onto each segment---it absorbed instantly, comforting her that the harsh taste would dissipate.

As her attempts to win him began to succeed, she felt a dreadful emotion begin to take her over. She felt as if her actual person was insufficient--her darker side was all that could interest him, and she felt morbid for ensnaring him so ruthlessly.

She dug the serrated spoon into the segment of her choice, and the fruit violently squirted its protest into her eye--the first sign that things were not what they seemed. As she took the first long-awaited bite of grapefruit, it was darkly bitter, so much less tasteful than she had expected, and a malicious shock to her desires---because though in her mind, this grapefruit was perfection in a sphere, its physical form was less than what she was so eager to indulge in.

Her head racing with daring, confusing, tempting thoughts, and she stopped herself before she could continue with this destructiveness. She knew that her act of seduction was merely an act--though she had deep feelings for this man, she couldn't convince herself that he felt the same way. She stood outside his door, sobbing deeply. She left the apartment, somber, melancholy, and feeling a void of loneliness deep in her stomach.

She forced the bite of citrus down like medicine, but she couldn't convince herself that she liked the taste. She picked another segment, and as her frustration turned physical, her clumsy actions spilled the grapefruit juice onto the counter. The woman sponged up the troubling juice, and tossed the grapefruit halves wistfully into the compost heap, lingering for a perfect moment ruined. She drove herself to work, silent, dejected, and feeling the furious pangs of an empty stomach.

We feel a sense of inherent anticipation---one, for the man that she loves, and the other, for a fruit that has been awaiting her. Physically, seduction and a grapefruit have an important similarity--both are simply a casing, a shell for inner feelings, the skin that contains bitter citrus juice. Even though attempts are made to sweeten the undeniable bitterness, the true nature of both seduction and the grapefruit unfortunately prevail. The end result of both seductions is sadly disappointing--neither woman feels complete after acting upon her desire. Both the hungry grapefruit seductress and the lonely man seductress leave their scenes having realized that they have made their objects of desire into ideals that may never be fulfilled.