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    dots Submission Name: Deconstructing Mrs. Bovarydots

    Author: drowning_queen
    Elite Ratio:    5.44 - 245/270/52
    Words: 892
    Class/Type: Prose/Longing
    Total Views: 970
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 4990

       I'm not sure where this came from. There's some language, some sex-- my usual overall debauchery. I'm open to ideas about content, format, etc. I really appreciate comments-- positive or negative. Any suggestions are welcome.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsDeconstructing Mrs. Bovarydots

    Emmaline Bovary’s come undone. She can’t understand how she ended up like this: 50, married to a man who lies about fucking his secretary and blames her for all the problems in their marriage, never pregnant but still managed to get stretch marks, bitter right down to her expensive citrus perfume, and more unhappy than any wealthy socialite has the right to be.

    Her husband hasn’t kissed her on the mouth in 18 years. He’s kissed near her mouth—the corner of it, the dimple in her chin—but not her lips, not inside where she desperately wants him. Even when they fuck (not make love—not anymore), his hasty, dry-mouthed kisses only speckle her neck, her shoulders. He never meets her eyes—he stares at the embroidered pillowcase, the cream colored wall, never at her. When he’s finished he pulls out and walks naked to the guest room (they don’t sleep together—he says she kicks and he’s gotten tired of waking up with bruises). She squeezes her thighs together and tries to hold his come inside her just a little longer—she already feels it slipping out to pool and dry on the silk bedding.

    She goes to the country club to eat lunch alone. Jack’s away on business; she thinks it’s Hong Kong this week. She imagines the petite, almond-eyed Chinese girls fawning over his westernized clothes, his smart haircut. She wonders how much of the sex he pays for and how much he can charm his way into getting for free. When she gets up to leave she bumps into Scott Lockhart—all bleached white teeth and insufferable cockiness. Some days, fucking the neighbor’s wife seems like a feasible option. On those days, she drinks until she can’t hold the cut-glass tumbler and the image of her tongue in Jeanette Lockhart’s cunt slowly fades away. She wonders if Scott has any idea she’s not paying attention but abandons the thought when he launches into a ten-minute description of a boil he’s just had lanced at his last doctor’s visit. She decides it’d be worth fucking Jeanette just to see the look on Scott’s face, the crushing blow to his masculinity. She wonders if he’d hit her and if she’d like it if he did.

    She looks forward to her OBGYN appointments. She keeps going even though she hasn’t bled in two years. The doctor is handsome with kind eyes and thick fingers. She’s wet before he even gets out the KY. She wishes her hands were bigger so when she’s alone at night they’d fill her as much as his do. Her own fingers are thin and cold and make her feel even emptier when she’s thrusting them inside herself. She wishes he’d leave the speculum inside her just a little longer, spread it just a little wider. She reminds herself not to beg when he gets up to leave.

    She gives the maid the rest of the day off and finishes the dishes herself. Her hands redden and chafe under the scalding water as she works the wire-brush fretfully across a cast-iron pot. The bristles scrape her knuckles with every stroke and she relishes the sting of detergent in the shallow cuts. As she works, she lets her mind drift to the night she met Jack. It was 1978 and she was spectacular-- tanned and glossy in a way only a 23 year old could be. The swirling neon lights of the oh-so-trendy nightclub bounced off her skimpy sequined top playfully. She was on her knees doing lines of coke off low, mirrored tables when he approached her. He was a fucking god in tight black pants and a half-buttoned shirt. She wanted to crawl into his chest hair and make a nest. She gave him a blowjob in the bathroom instead. Back then it didn’t matter if people thought she was a whore, didn’t matter if she spent all day drinking and all night fucking strangers for drugs and approval. But Jack was different. Jack had plans for his life. And those plans just happened to include a blonde trophy wife. She almost fit the bill. A quick wardrobe change, a brief trip to rehab and voila! Mrs. Emmaline Bovary was born. They were married in less than three months. She wonders if she ever loved him or just loved the idea of him. It doesn’t particularly matter now.

    The house is so large it echoes at night. She doesn’t bother to turn on the lights—it’s harder to hate yourself in the dark. The heavy, wooden dining table feels cool under her raw, stinging hands. A glass of scotch sits at her elbow. She imagines knocking the drink to the tiled floor, imagines the sharp, shattering sound of priceless crystal, imagines the amber liquid staining her posh shoes. She downs it in one burning gulp and carefully sets the cup in the stainless-steel sink. The steep climb up flights of wide, carpeted stairs doesn’t seem worth the energy so she curls up on the Italian leather couch. Shivering in her tailored dress, she wishes she had a blanket—but sadly it would clash with the clean lines of the sparsely decorated living room. Her nipples ache in the chill of the room and she can only hope the morning will be warmer. It’s not likely.

    Submitted on 2005-04-21 18:59:30     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      WONDERFUL. I had to search to find it, because I read your sequel, and it rocked HARD.
    I wanted to see the beginnings...
    This is wonderful... I could read this all day, and I'm sad that it ended...
    | Posted on 2006-11-02 00:00:00 | by Syn | [ Reply to This ]
      If you are not published, that is a real travesty.
    I can't believe the level of your capabilities. Praise to you!

    This does a really good job of revealing the loneliness of marriage. I think very few people stay friends after they tie the knot. It's also a very revealing look at the female mind.

    They think we're complex and irrational. I think we're very easy to understand, ya just have to want to.


    | Posted on 2006-07-25 00:00:00 | by neverland gypsy | [ Reply to This ]
      You were right, I enjoyed it immensely. Thanks for turning me this direction. I think I like pretty much everything you write. Are you published?

    | Posted on 2006-06-22 00:00:00 | by parabola | [ Reply to This ]
      Whoa...this is remarkable. Glad to have stumbled on it. For some inexcusable reason i was prejudging this right from the start and propping it up against Flaubert...in my head...and expecting disappointment. It was not a disappointment.

    I don't honestly know what all the talk is about concerning 'orgasm'...or whatever. But i like the story just the way it is. Perhaps the most remarkable facet to this write is the 'tone' of the protagonist that shines through...and i would characterize it as 'stoic resignation'.

    The tone is loud and clear. Your style of writing narrative hooks the reader in from the start and keeps us interested throughout. The images and descriptions were spot-on...nothing more...or less than was necessary for you to accomplish what you needed with this write.

    Really a gem. Thanks for the read.

    Sort of gets me to thinking of everything that's missing with my prose. Thanks a lot!

    see you around,
    | Posted on 2006-02-19 00:00:00 | by twacky | [ Reply to This ]
      I tend to agree with Mister Fizzle in his views that this should have a 'climax' of some sort, a final 'showdown'.

    I think that you have worded this wonderfully as a lot of other readers have commented on. Your short, sharp words gives lots of emphasis to this lonely trophy housewife of yours.

    A suggestion? Take one of your characters that she fantasizes about - like the doctor or Jeannette, and do something with them. Get it all hot and heavy and disgusting you know? The way the story finishes just leaves me... hanging for more. Maybe that was your intention, but I didn't feel satisfied... like your protagonist.

    So if that was your intention, well done. If not, then expand upon this until you get a final resolution. It doesn't have to be nice, far from it. In fact that would probably ruin it. I just want to see some sh.it go down, you know?

    You have one sexually depraved mind. For some reason I kinda like that hahahahah.

    I don't know what else to say. I did enjoy this story a lot. Vivid descriptions and a believable persona makes this one flow really well. Oh, I also agree - a description of Madame Bovary now wouldn't go amiss - or perhaps that is part of the mystique?

    Hmm. Take what you want from this. I'm not a short-story writer so my opinion is probably next to useless.

    | Posted on 2005-10-15 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
      There are some real gems in elite skills if you dig around, and I got to admit, your one of them. 'She wanted to crawl into his chest hair and make a nest. She gave him a blowjob in the bathroom instead. ' Very stylish and raw writing. If I went on I'd just repeat what other commenters have said. And your Big Bill's sister/brother? Consider yourself stalked. In a good way.
    | Posted on 2005-05-26 00:00:00 | by Von Django | [ Reply to This ]
      I'm with merrydeath, I usually pass by the longer story-like submissions because of time constraints, but this my dear kept me mesmerized. I like the edginess, the raw emotions, the dirrrty thoughts we are privy to from this character. I am a big fan of erotic literature and this was great I have to say. Do you ever read Anais Nin? You must. You would so enjoy it. I want to come back a little later and go into a little more detail. Right now I am off to Savanna's softball game. I'll be back with my dirty martini and the expensive tennis racket I have never used. Cheers...Rene'
    | Posted on 2005-05-14 00:00:00 | by Magnolia | [ Reply to This ]
      Thank you for writing such an honest, candid, unique work of art. And it is art. I'd hang it on my wall under heavy glass with museum plaques and bus loads of fifth graders shipped in to see "true art", to experience a piece of history. I'd steal Mona Lisa and put this up in her place, let all the art scholars and toursists stare dumbfounded at it's beauty, the way it lingers after you when you leave the room, still pulsating in your head like house music, blocking out any chance of forgetting it, of getting on with your life unaffected. I'd put it on a billboard in Time's Square, make the world read it and take notice of everything wrong with our society.....

    yeah i stole your words, but only because i am utterly speahless.

    You have made something beautitul in it's honesty and if you weren's lesbian i would ask you to marry me on the spot(jk, well actually are you bi? or i can get an operation, really)

    The way this is written holds so much emotion. Every single sentance holds this same emotion and this made me want to cry because this is so common. I think sometimes the most important stories to tell are the one's that happen everyday. I really wish you would continue this piece, really this seems like the start of something special and i hope you continue.

    The style is amazing. It's almost like the tone is a mockery of itself. As if it's trying to glorify this situation but then again showing a resentment yet utter apathy all at the same time. The spiral of emotion that must be going on through mrs. bovary's head completely exposed. This little tug of war between i hate this i love this.

    i can't really put this into many more words. I just really hope that you write more because this is the most amazing piece of literature i have seen on this site so far.


    | Posted on 2005-04-25 00:00:00 | by Skillessbasterd | [ Reply to This ]
      Wow. I've never read Madame Bovary and don't know much about it but wouldn't mind reading a modern retake of it, if it was all like this. The image of this pathetically lonely woman, so desperate that she wants to [censored] her own doctor. And the shallowness of some people's lives -- that example at the end where she won't get a blanket because it would clash with her decorating.

    My only caveat is that I think you're a little too specific at parts. Like the bit about her husband being " tanned and glossy in a way only a 23 year old could be." Why not just "tanned and glossy in a way only a young man could be." The number gives a momentary pause in my mind, like a speed bump, and interrupts the flow. Same with the bit about 18 years since he kissed her. Why not "years." Or "decades" even. Just a thought.
    | Posted on 2005-04-22 00:00:00 | by blackpearl | [ Reply to This ]
      nice. verrrry nice. will you write me a book about emmaline bovary? i could read this forever! you have a very raw style going here. the short sentences have full impact on the reader, and the vulgarity of it only adds to the extreme sense of helplessness she is undergoing... i love the use of language and quote unquote strong language in this... i don't usually read long submissions or story-like submissions, but this caught my eye and held it. nice job. no questions or corrections. *md*
    | Posted on 2005-04-22 00:00:00 | by MerryDeath | [ Reply to This ]
      First off I want to acknowledge your keen style of describing the frame of mind this woman is in. I really got a feel for how she felt about things and also her state of inner moral turmoil over feeling that way. She just excudes a sence of hoplessness that is almost a bummer to read. Good Job there.

    One thing I found myself wondering was what she looked like. I didn't feel like I had a good enough physical image of her in my mind. You said she was 50, but I kept getting a "23 year old slut needs rescued from bad marriage" vibe...

    so anyway, a little more emphasis on her physical characteristics might be cool.

    This is done in awesome detail. I love the part about how she holds his cum in a little longer. That is so vivid and real to me. Excellent.

    It has a feel of being unfinished though you know? It's like this is a good idea but where will it go? She has to do something, the story must move forward. You done a good job of putting our protagonist in a really [censored]ty situation, now what will she do?

    hope this input helps. Please PM me if you write more to this story I would love to read more about the adventures of her, and give you input on it.

    Great writing, honestly.

    | Posted on 2005-04-22 00:00:00 | by Mister Fizzle | [ Reply to This ]
      man, this gave me shivers up and down my spine. you did a most wonderful job developing your character here. i felt as if i were her more and more as the story progressed. i truly am blown away by this. it's so sad, but this kind of thing happens all the time. the first line worked wonders for opening up the background of the piece. your style here is so simple, but your words are so raw; they crawl up into the face of the reader and scream. mighty little piece you have here, girly. magnificent job! keep it up! ^_^
    hugs and Gustave Flaubert kisses,
    | Posted on 2005-04-21 00:00:00 | by dark_and_dreary | [ Reply to This ]
      This is amazing. I've read some of you other pieces and you are amazingly talented! This piece got me hooked on the first line and just kept pulling me in. I was disapointed when I got to the end! The entire piece was like a written movie. You incorperated the smallest details flawlessly into the whole thing. It had a frightenly real desperate feel to the piece. You did a magnificent job with this and I look forward to reading more by you.
    | Posted on 2005-06-20 00:00:00 | by rockunsilenced | [ Reply to This ]

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