“But isn’t he used to sharing?” Gavin asked
Jeff exhaled. “It’s not exactly like that,” he replied. “We’re essentially a couple, but with an extra person. Alan’s not, well, Alan’s not sexually driven and not exactly into men. So he didn’t like that I was sleeping with other men and, you know, using things that he touched.”
Gavin raised a brow. “So he’s a spaz.”
Jeff chuckled. “Essentially.”
“So wait,” Gavin said, suddenly tense. “Are you breaking up with me?”
Jeff nodded. “I mean, if you were under the impression that we were in something that needs us to say, it’s over, then yes I’m saying it’s over.”
“But I came here to break up with you.”
“Sure,” Jeff said.
“No, I really was,” Gavin said.
“Listen,” Jeff said. “It’s two people that are going to be pleasing me versus one so it’s no contest. Besides you were just rebounding on me so it’s not like you formed any attachment.”
“You’re right,” Gavin said, standing. “I formed no attachment. And I definitely came here to tell you that.”
And Gavin strutted out of the bakery, feeling as if he did it more elegantly than Alan. Through the window, he saw Jeff taking a drink of coffee, reading the paper. He didn’t look like he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, but Gavin wasn’t mad. He just moved on.
Gavin stayed with Tulip for a while, but as he began hearing his clients talk about love and the nice things their partners were doing for them, Gavin found himself feeling lonely. Jeff, at least, was someone to curl up with, but his clients began talking about their children and how rewarding the experience was and Gavin found himself thinking about Cabe more often.
He hadn’t made a mistake.
Cabe made the mistake by fighting with him and pushing him away.
So one particularly dreary afternoon, Gavin wandered into the library to see if there were any books to keep him company. He made sure to pursue the religion section, close in proximity to the children’s section. He browsed and rubbed his chin, tilting his head to read the titles and authors names.
Sliding on his jacket, Cabe did a double-take as he saw Gavin in the religion section. He hesitated before he approached him. “Hey,” Cabe said, offering a friendly smile.
“Oh,” Gavin said, putting a book back. “Hello. Are you still working here? I had no idea.”
Cabe chuckled and leaned against a bookshelf. “I sure am,” he replied. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Nope,” Gavin said.
Cabe watched Gavin carefully. He could see Gavin was no longer looking at the titles, only pretending to. “Can I get you a drink at least?”
“I don’t know,” Gavin said.
“May I get you a drink?” Cabe said, rolling his eyes.
“No, no,” Gavin said, turning around and leaning on the bookcase. He repositioned himself when he realized he was in the same pose as Cabe. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
Cabe went on his tiptoes to see who was around, but found the children’s section completely vacated. He stepped closer to Gavin. “I want to give us another try,” he said, his voice low, “but I’d understand if you don’t want to. I mean, I still want kids, Gavin.”
“And I still don’t want to get old,” Gavin said.
Cabe laughed, but he covered his mouth quickly. He was, in fact, in a library. “I don’t blame you,” Cabe replied.
Gavin nodded and said, “Take me out for that drink.”
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
betsy: Day Eight
Cabe, too, wasn’t completely alone. Julian convinced Cabe that there was no reason he should be alone and horny when he could pound into Julian all he wanted. Cabe spent the first few nights alone, but Julian ended up lingering around late one night, sort of just squeezing his way into bed with Cabe.
Cabe wasn’t really the type to complain about it. There was nothing like forgetting an old flame with, well, another old flame.
(inappropriate things go here)
Cabe curled up against Julian, and he was happy with just a fling. He was taking his dad’s advice and just thinking things over. He just let Julian entertain him while he thought things over.
But Julian wasn’t going to hang around forever. Julian wasn’t one for relationships. So Cabe felt a little empty once Julian flew away back to New York, but it gave him time to focus on, well, everything else. But he found his thoughts drifting back to Gavin. He thought Gavin would be perfect for raising a kid with him. He wondered if explaining that to Gavin would make him more willing.
But then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Gavin. Or maybe he was. He’d have to call his dad again.
Meanwhile, Gavin had been trying to figure out how to end things with Jeff. He knew Jeff was leaving soon for a dig, and he didn’t want to awkwardly break up with him when he came back. And he didn’t want to just send a text message or something stupid. Jeff certainly was fun to be around, and a notable fuck, but he didn’t think he was getting anything long term.
It was very frustrating that he was thinking long term.
So he stormed over to Cake Break, the bakery where he first met Jeff, in search of him. Whenever he wanted to find Jeff, he was there.
And, true to form, there was Jeff sitting at a table with some guy. They seemed to be in a bit of an argument, and he noticed the clerk (he tried to remember her name) lingering near them. Eavesdropping, he thought.
Gavin considered not approaching them, but Jeff turned around to see who entered and saw Gavin. He made face which suggested death, but Gavin lingered too long. The other man’s black eyes locked onto Gavin and looked to the clerk. “Is this him?” he asked.
The clerk said nothing and walked back to the counter.
“Excuse me!” the man shouted at Gavin. “Are you the slut Jeff’s been sleeping with?”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed. He was not a slut. “Excuse me,” Gavin said back, approaching the man. “I am sleeping with Jeff, but if anyone’s the slut, it’s you.”
The clerk let out a bit of a laugh, covering her mouth. The man stood up, meeting Gavin eye level. Gavin was a little impressed because he was quite tall himself, and Gavin found himself puffing out to be just a bit taller than him.
“Alan,” Jeff said. “Sit down.”
“He called me a slut,” Alan said, not breaking eye contact with Gavin.
“Well, you called him one,” Jeff said. “And I’m under the impression both of you are only sleeping with me.”
The clerk cleared her throat.
“Well, me and Georgia in your case, Alan,” Jeff said.
Gavin wanted to make a “Ha!” sound, but held his tongue. It didn’t feel like the right moment.
Alan didn’t seem impressed though. He broke eye contact with Gavin as his nose wrinkled in anger. “Fuck you, Jeff,” Alan said. “I forgot you were the fucking slut.”
And Alan stormed out of the bakery. Jeff just looked at Georgia, the clerk. Gavin had never seen him look sad before, but at this moment he looked devastated. “I’ll go after him,” Georgia said, gently touching Gavin’s shoulder as she walked out.
Gavin wasn’t sure what the tap meant, but he felt more confident for the moment. “Sit with me,” Jeff said. “Did you want to have a word?”
“Yes,” Gavin said, taking a seat. “Who was that?”
“You know how we never talked about being exclusive?”
Gavin nodded.
“Well, I’m seeing him and Georgia too. And he wasn’t aware that I was,” he cleared his throat, “seeing other people.”
“Wait,” Gavin said. “You’re seeing both of them. You’re seeing a couple.”
“Well we’re all together. I wouldn’t call them a couple. We’re more of a trio,” Jeff said. “Anyway, he wants to be exclusive.”
Cabe wasn’t really the type to complain about it. There was nothing like forgetting an old flame with, well, another old flame.
(inappropriate things go here)
Cabe curled up against Julian, and he was happy with just a fling. He was taking his dad’s advice and just thinking things over. He just let Julian entertain him while he thought things over.
But Julian wasn’t going to hang around forever. Julian wasn’t one for relationships. So Cabe felt a little empty once Julian flew away back to New York, but it gave him time to focus on, well, everything else. But he found his thoughts drifting back to Gavin. He thought Gavin would be perfect for raising a kid with him. He wondered if explaining that to Gavin would make him more willing.
But then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Gavin. Or maybe he was. He’d have to call his dad again.
Meanwhile, Gavin had been trying to figure out how to end things with Jeff. He knew Jeff was leaving soon for a dig, and he didn’t want to awkwardly break up with him when he came back. And he didn’t want to just send a text message or something stupid. Jeff certainly was fun to be around, and a notable fuck, but he didn’t think he was getting anything long term.
It was very frustrating that he was thinking long term.
So he stormed over to Cake Break, the bakery where he first met Jeff, in search of him. Whenever he wanted to find Jeff, he was there.
And, true to form, there was Jeff sitting at a table with some guy. They seemed to be in a bit of an argument, and he noticed the clerk (he tried to remember her name) lingering near them. Eavesdropping, he thought.
Gavin considered not approaching them, but Jeff turned around to see who entered and saw Gavin. He made face which suggested death, but Gavin lingered too long. The other man’s black eyes locked onto Gavin and looked to the clerk. “Is this him?” he asked.
The clerk said nothing and walked back to the counter.
“Excuse me!” the man shouted at Gavin. “Are you the slut Jeff’s been sleeping with?”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed. He was not a slut. “Excuse me,” Gavin said back, approaching the man. “I am sleeping with Jeff, but if anyone’s the slut, it’s you.”
The clerk let out a bit of a laugh, covering her mouth. The man stood up, meeting Gavin eye level. Gavin was a little impressed because he was quite tall himself, and Gavin found himself puffing out to be just a bit taller than him.
“Alan,” Jeff said. “Sit down.”
“He called me a slut,” Alan said, not breaking eye contact with Gavin.
“Well, you called him one,” Jeff said. “And I’m under the impression both of you are only sleeping with me.”
The clerk cleared her throat.
“Well, me and Georgia in your case, Alan,” Jeff said.
Gavin wanted to make a “Ha!” sound, but held his tongue. It didn’t feel like the right moment.
Alan didn’t seem impressed though. He broke eye contact with Gavin as his nose wrinkled in anger. “Fuck you, Jeff,” Alan said. “I forgot you were the fucking slut.”
And Alan stormed out of the bakery. Jeff just looked at Georgia, the clerk. Gavin had never seen him look sad before, but at this moment he looked devastated. “I’ll go after him,” Georgia said, gently touching Gavin’s shoulder as she walked out.
Gavin wasn’t sure what the tap meant, but he felt more confident for the moment. “Sit with me,” Jeff said. “Did you want to have a word?”
“Yes,” Gavin said, taking a seat. “Who was that?”
“You know how we never talked about being exclusive?”
Gavin nodded.
“Well, I’m seeing him and Georgia too. And he wasn’t aware that I was,” he cleared his throat, “seeing other people.”
“Wait,” Gavin said. “You’re seeing both of them. You’re seeing a couple.”
“Well we’re all together. I wouldn’t call them a couple. We’re more of a trio,” Jeff said. “Anyway, he wants to be exclusive.”
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
betsy: Day Seven
Jeff held Gavin’s face in his hand, ruffling his hair. He stared into Gavin’s almond eyes for a moment, Gavin frustrated because he wanted more kissing and pawing.
“What’s it going to take for a smile?” Jeff asked.
“Really great sex,” Gavin said, impatiently rubbing against him.
“That I can do,” Jeff said. “But I want that smile.”
Gavin made a face smile, not turning up his lips but showed his teeth.
“Not a smile that looks like a crocodile,” Jeff said, laughing.
“How about I just make you smile,” Gavin said, sliding his hand down Jeff’s pants.
“Usually I’m the one who-“ he felt Gavin’s warm mouth take in his erection and he simply exhaled, running his fingers through his hair.
Gavin run his tongue along the underside of his erection, carefully digging his nails into Jeff’s thighs. He wrapped his hand around the base of Jeff’s shaft, jerking him off quickly as Gavin focussed on sucked the head of his cock.
“Wait,” Jeff said.
Gavin increased his speed, jerking him off faster.
Jeff bit his lip, pulling Gavin off of him. “Stop, hold on,” Jeff said. “I’ve had a bit to drink, and I’m only going to have enough energy for one thing. And I want it to screw you senseless.”
Gavin released his erection. “Well you better get started,” Gavin said.
“You better take off your shirt,” Jeff said, his cock throbbing in the open. “I wouldn’t want you walking out of here all sweaty.”
Rolling his eyes, Gavin pulled off his shirt and dropped his pants. Cabe never made him make such a scene. Jeff had inched off his own pants as Gavin carefully slid on to Jeff’s erection. Jeff bucked against him, pressing down on Gavin’s thighs to force himself deeper inside of him. Gavin let out a moan which made Jeff smile.
“Face me,” Jeff said, trying to turn Gavin around.
Gavin rode him roughly, ignoring his selfish suggestion. Jeff kept up with him, bucking back and pushing Gavin down onto him. Gavin preferred being the one in control, and he struggled as Jeff wrapped an arm around his waist. Jeff sat up, his waist pressing against Gavin’s back. Gavin moaned as Jeff bit lightly on his ear, pressing Gavin deep into him.
Jeff manoeuvred Gavin onto his knees, using his own knees to keep his legs far apart. Jeff kept his body against Gavin for a moment, kissing his neck as he thrusted into him. Gavin continued moaning and bucking, his own erection throbbing from neglect.
Gripping the sheets, Gavin said, “Jerk me off.”
“You wouldn’t face me,” Jeff’s warm breath on his shoulder, and Gavin hated the smug bastard.
Jeff placing his hands on Gavin’s thighs, no longer leaning on Gavin’s back. Gavin cursed as Jeff continued pounding into him, and groaned louder. But he was not going to jerk himself off when Jeff had a perfectly good hand, only it was busy gripping his thighs. Gavin dug his fingers into mattress grinding back against Jeff.
He barely heard Jeff’s heavy breathing over his moans. Gavin gasped, “I take it you like the sound effects?”
He felt Jeff laugh against him, but made no reply.
Raising a brow, Gavin said, “I’ll say your name if you jerk me off.”
Jeff laughed again, throwing off his rhythm. But he felt Jeff’s hand run along his back before he felt the other firmly grip his dick. Gavin held his tongue, not being able to suppress moans, but not naming any names. Jeff spread Gavin’s knees further apart with his arm, jerking him off at a quick pace while trying to slam deeper into Gavin. That’s when Gavin finally complied in moaning his name.
Jeff didn’t last much longer, he tried to keep up a quick rough pace, but Gavin spent more time grind up against him as Jeff let out a gasp, coming into him. Jeff felt Gavin spill into his fingers, and they dropped against each other, breathing heavily. “Jesus,” Jeff said. “Fuck.”
Gavin kept his back to Jeff, but kept himself pressed against him. Jeff stretched out on his back, keeping an arm beneath Gavin to draw circles on his chest. Gavin didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling.
“What’s it going to take for a smile?” Jeff asked.
“Really great sex,” Gavin said, impatiently rubbing against him.
“That I can do,” Jeff said. “But I want that smile.”
Gavin made a face smile, not turning up his lips but showed his teeth.
“Not a smile that looks like a crocodile,” Jeff said, laughing.
“How about I just make you smile,” Gavin said, sliding his hand down Jeff’s pants.
“Usually I’m the one who-“ he felt Gavin’s warm mouth take in his erection and he simply exhaled, running his fingers through his hair.
Gavin run his tongue along the underside of his erection, carefully digging his nails into Jeff’s thighs. He wrapped his hand around the base of Jeff’s shaft, jerking him off quickly as Gavin focussed on sucked the head of his cock.
“Wait,” Jeff said.
Gavin increased his speed, jerking him off faster.
Jeff bit his lip, pulling Gavin off of him. “Stop, hold on,” Jeff said. “I’ve had a bit to drink, and I’m only going to have enough energy for one thing. And I want it to screw you senseless.”
Gavin released his erection. “Well you better get started,” Gavin said.
“You better take off your shirt,” Jeff said, his cock throbbing in the open. “I wouldn’t want you walking out of here all sweaty.”
Rolling his eyes, Gavin pulled off his shirt and dropped his pants. Cabe never made him make such a scene. Jeff had inched off his own pants as Gavin carefully slid on to Jeff’s erection. Jeff bucked against him, pressing down on Gavin’s thighs to force himself deeper inside of him. Gavin let out a moan which made Jeff smile.
“Face me,” Jeff said, trying to turn Gavin around.
Gavin rode him roughly, ignoring his selfish suggestion. Jeff kept up with him, bucking back and pushing Gavin down onto him. Gavin preferred being the one in control, and he struggled as Jeff wrapped an arm around his waist. Jeff sat up, his waist pressing against Gavin’s back. Gavin moaned as Jeff bit lightly on his ear, pressing Gavin deep into him.
Jeff manoeuvred Gavin onto his knees, using his own knees to keep his legs far apart. Jeff kept his body against Gavin for a moment, kissing his neck as he thrusted into him. Gavin continued moaning and bucking, his own erection throbbing from neglect.
Gripping the sheets, Gavin said, “Jerk me off.”
“You wouldn’t face me,” Jeff’s warm breath on his shoulder, and Gavin hated the smug bastard.
Jeff placing his hands on Gavin’s thighs, no longer leaning on Gavin’s back. Gavin cursed as Jeff continued pounding into him, and groaned louder. But he was not going to jerk himself off when Jeff had a perfectly good hand, only it was busy gripping his thighs. Gavin dug his fingers into mattress grinding back against Jeff.
He barely heard Jeff’s heavy breathing over his moans. Gavin gasped, “I take it you like the sound effects?”
He felt Jeff laugh against him, but made no reply.
Raising a brow, Gavin said, “I’ll say your name if you jerk me off.”
Jeff laughed again, throwing off his rhythm. But he felt Jeff’s hand run along his back before he felt the other firmly grip his dick. Gavin held his tongue, not being able to suppress moans, but not naming any names. Jeff spread Gavin’s knees further apart with his arm, jerking him off at a quick pace while trying to slam deeper into Gavin. That’s when Gavin finally complied in moaning his name.
Jeff didn’t last much longer, he tried to keep up a quick rough pace, but Gavin spent more time grind up against him as Jeff let out a gasp, coming into him. Jeff felt Gavin spill into his fingers, and they dropped against each other, breathing heavily. “Jesus,” Jeff said. “Fuck.”
Gavin kept his back to Jeff, but kept himself pressed against him. Jeff stretched out on his back, keeping an arm beneath Gavin to draw circles on his chest. Gavin didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Day Six: Betsy
Gavin, however, found himself with nothing but distractions. He kept the napkin with the cheerful Jeff’s number. He told his sister the story of the fight with Cabe, and with the stranger who wanted to talk to him about it. Tulip helped him cheer up about Cabe, telling him if he didn’t want children, she didn’t think the relationship could go any further.
She was, however, leery of Jeff. Tulip explained that Jeff seemed to be seeing some people, but that she didn’t know whether or not he was exclusively with them.
This intrigued Gavin. He definitely wasn’t willing to share someone, but perhaps he just needed a good fling to get on his feet. He told Cabe he didn’t need anyone, so he didn’t need anyone. He just needed a good screw and didn’t exactly feel like doing it himself.
So he called Jeff. They talked for a bit, just casual conversation, and Jeff ultimately asked him for a drink after Gavin hinted around about it.
He didn’t tell Tulip where he was heading.
Gavin found Jeff quickly in the bar and, he was pleased to note, Jeff spent the entire time with him. He clearly knew people, often giving them a short wave, but aside from that he focussed his attention entirely on Gavin. None of this “I’m going to talk to so and so for a second” and then leaving him alone at the table for an hour just to stare at the coats.
And he knew there was a possibility of Jeff just trying to soften him up, but that was fine too. He reminded himself he wasn’t looking for anything serious.
So Gavin rewarded him with a serious gaze and a few touches on his freckled wrist and, later in the evening, on the inside of his thigh. Jeff was not stylish like Gavin, but he looked good in his facial hair, and Gavin did prefer the extra weight that Jeff wore extremely well.
“So do you ever go home with strange men?” Jeff finally asked, enjoying Gavin’s hints a lot. “Or is it only for vengeance?”
“Oh please,” Gavin replied. “It can’t be vengeance if he doesn’t know about it.”
Jeff looked sceptical, but put a hand on his shoulder as he stood up. “Well, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” he said. “But if you need a warm bed to stay in, you’re more than welcome. I’ll just have to make a quick phone call.”
“Sure,” Gavin said, assuming he was calling someone else he was supposed to be.
Gavin felt smug as he stepped out of the bar, feeling the stench the smokers caused penetrate his nostrils. He pushed away the thoughts of Cabe as Jeff joined him outside. He took a deep breath, but made no motion to pull out a cigarette like Cabe would have.
The apartment was pretty much what Gavin expected. It was messy. He left his porn out in the open (among various self-pleasure devices). He had suitcases out, and Gavin briefly wondered where he was going. He noticed some things had been boxed up with labels that were just years. There were also tons of large reference books and small plastic dinosaurs laying around, neither of which Gavin would have guessed.
But he didn’t bother dignifying them with a mention. Aside from the mess, the apartment wasn’t actually dirty. He ran his fingers along shelves and found little-to-no dust, and he noticed Jeff’s blue eyes watching him inspect the apartment.
“Does it meet with your approval?” Jeff asked.
Gavin simply shrugged. He had no desire to nod because it didn’t. But it was enough, he didn’t really need anything else. He just hoped the bed wasn’t a waterbed or something as equally sleazy. He decided that a waterbed might just be a deal breaker.
“Just so things don’t get awkward,” Jeff said, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked into what Gavin assumed to be a bedroom, “You’re welcome to stay the night, but I’ll probably wake you up before I go. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’ve had bad experiences with letting people loiter in my apartment while I’m not here.”
Gavin investigated his bedroom in a similar manner. The bed wasn’t water. “Why?” Gavin asked. “Are you hiding something?”
“No,” Jeff replied. “But things sometimes go missing and it’s rude to say ‘Well it was here before you came over’ and sometimes other people show up while I’m out and there’s a fight while I’m out and I like watching a good fight.”
Gavin just stared at him blankly. He wasn’t sure what to think. Cabe probably would try to break up the fight quite swiftly. And Cabe probably wouldn’t have various sexual partners and let them be aware of it. Or maybe he was the only one that got to be aware of it. He wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t sure he cared.
“Well,” Jeff continued, sprawling out on the bed. “I do happen to be hiding something. Do you care to find it?”
Gavin snorted, disapproving. But Jeff just kept his stupid smile on him, and Gavin climbed on top of him. He closed his eyes as he felt the soft bread before the kiss.
She was, however, leery of Jeff. Tulip explained that Jeff seemed to be seeing some people, but that she didn’t know whether or not he was exclusively with them.
This intrigued Gavin. He definitely wasn’t willing to share someone, but perhaps he just needed a good fling to get on his feet. He told Cabe he didn’t need anyone, so he didn’t need anyone. He just needed a good screw and didn’t exactly feel like doing it himself.
So he called Jeff. They talked for a bit, just casual conversation, and Jeff ultimately asked him for a drink after Gavin hinted around about it.
He didn’t tell Tulip where he was heading.
Gavin found Jeff quickly in the bar and, he was pleased to note, Jeff spent the entire time with him. He clearly knew people, often giving them a short wave, but aside from that he focussed his attention entirely on Gavin. None of this “I’m going to talk to so and so for a second” and then leaving him alone at the table for an hour just to stare at the coats.
And he knew there was a possibility of Jeff just trying to soften him up, but that was fine too. He reminded himself he wasn’t looking for anything serious.
So Gavin rewarded him with a serious gaze and a few touches on his freckled wrist and, later in the evening, on the inside of his thigh. Jeff was not stylish like Gavin, but he looked good in his facial hair, and Gavin did prefer the extra weight that Jeff wore extremely well.
“So do you ever go home with strange men?” Jeff finally asked, enjoying Gavin’s hints a lot. “Or is it only for vengeance?”
“Oh please,” Gavin replied. “It can’t be vengeance if he doesn’t know about it.”
Jeff looked sceptical, but put a hand on his shoulder as he stood up. “Well, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” he said. “But if you need a warm bed to stay in, you’re more than welcome. I’ll just have to make a quick phone call.”
“Sure,” Gavin said, assuming he was calling someone else he was supposed to be.
Gavin felt smug as he stepped out of the bar, feeling the stench the smokers caused penetrate his nostrils. He pushed away the thoughts of Cabe as Jeff joined him outside. He took a deep breath, but made no motion to pull out a cigarette like Cabe would have.
The apartment was pretty much what Gavin expected. It was messy. He left his porn out in the open (among various self-pleasure devices). He had suitcases out, and Gavin briefly wondered where he was going. He noticed some things had been boxed up with labels that were just years. There were also tons of large reference books and small plastic dinosaurs laying around, neither of which Gavin would have guessed.
But he didn’t bother dignifying them with a mention. Aside from the mess, the apartment wasn’t actually dirty. He ran his fingers along shelves and found little-to-no dust, and he noticed Jeff’s blue eyes watching him inspect the apartment.
“Does it meet with your approval?” Jeff asked.
Gavin simply shrugged. He had no desire to nod because it didn’t. But it was enough, he didn’t really need anything else. He just hoped the bed wasn’t a waterbed or something as equally sleazy. He decided that a waterbed might just be a deal breaker.
“Just so things don’t get awkward,” Jeff said, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked into what Gavin assumed to be a bedroom, “You’re welcome to stay the night, but I’ll probably wake you up before I go. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’ve had bad experiences with letting people loiter in my apartment while I’m not here.”
Gavin investigated his bedroom in a similar manner. The bed wasn’t water. “Why?” Gavin asked. “Are you hiding something?”
“No,” Jeff replied. “But things sometimes go missing and it’s rude to say ‘Well it was here before you came over’ and sometimes other people show up while I’m out and there’s a fight while I’m out and I like watching a good fight.”
Gavin just stared at him blankly. He wasn’t sure what to think. Cabe probably would try to break up the fight quite swiftly. And Cabe probably wouldn’t have various sexual partners and let them be aware of it. Or maybe he was the only one that got to be aware of it. He wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t sure he cared.
“Well,” Jeff continued, sprawling out on the bed. “I do happen to be hiding something. Do you care to find it?”
Gavin snorted, disapproving. But Jeff just kept his stupid smile on him, and Gavin climbed on top of him. He closed his eyes as he felt the soft bread before the kiss.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
betsy: Day Five
“You don’t need him,” Julian said on the one side of Cabe. “He was too high-strung for you anyway. You should try to find someone who actually wants a family.”
“Have you tried calling him?” Harvey asked.
“He doesn’t need him,” Julian stated.
“The more I apologize the harder it’ll be to get him to come back,” Cabe sobbed, pausing to take a drag of his cigarette. “He’s too stubborn. The best I can do is leave him alone and hope he remembers me.”
“You could make him jealous by sleeping around,” Julian suggested. “I can help with that.”
“But Gavin would have to know about it,” Cabe sighed. “And I don’t even know where he is.”
Cabe looked at his cell phone, but didn’t see any messages waiting for him. Harvey rubbed Cabe’s back as Julian patted Cabe’s inner thigh. “It’ll be fine,” Harvey said. “He’ll be back for you, and then he’ll realize he wants a family and everything will be okay.”
“Yeah if you live in a fucking fairy tale world,” Julian said, upturning his nose at Harvey.
“I used to live in a fucking fairy tale world,” Cabe whined. “With emphasis on the fucking.”
The bar turned out to be a less than productive evening. Cabe went home feeling worse (though drunker) than he had when he left. He flopped down on the couch. Cabe definitely didn’t want to lay in an empty bed. He pulled out his cell phone and checked it again.
Still no messages from Gavin.
He stared at his phone, willing Gavin to call him. He’d be happy to just have Gavin yell at him more. He searched through his contacts, lingering on Gavin’s name.
Then he flipped back up to find his dad’s name. He knew he could call his dad at any time, in any state of mine. He pressed the phone to his ear and let it ring.
Cabe started coughing as he dad answered, “Hello?”
Cabe continued coughing, “Hello? Cabe?”
“S-sorry,” Cabe said, clearing his throat. “Sorry dad. Yes, it’s me.”
“You have a distinct cough,” his dad, laughed. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Shouldn’t your phone tell you that?” his dad asked. Cabe could hear his smile fading. “It’s one in the morning, is something wrong?”
“Dad,” Cabe started, “Gavin left me.”
His dad was quiet for a moment before asking, “What happened?”
Cabe told the story that Gavin had told Jeff hours before, the same story he told Harvey and Julian in the bar. His dad listened patiently.
Cabe found the tears welling up in his eyes as he told the story. He walked around the apartment to find a tissue for his nose. When he was finished he asked, “Dad, what do I do?”
“Well, Gavin’s not the type to come crawling back, is he?”
“Maybe,” Cabe said, timidly.
“Do you want to be in this relationship?”
Cabe hesitated. He wasn’t sure anymore. Gavin didn’t like his friends. Gavin didn’t want a family. Gavin thought he drank and smoke too much. He didn’t seem to like much about what made Cabe, Cabe.
“I don’t know, dad,” Cabe said.
“Then maybe you should take a break,” his dad said. “It could give you some time to think about it without him distracting you.”
“I feel terrible,” Cabe moaned.
“I know, son,” he replied. “But you’ll feel better soon. Maybe not tomorrow since it sounds like you’re going to have a hangover, but you’ll feel better.”
Cabe nodded, though his dad couldn’t see it. “Thanks dad,” he said. “Sorry for waking you up.”
“Ah, I was up anyway,” his dad said.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Cabe replied.
They exchanged goodnights and Cabe hung up the phone, resting it on his chest. He couldn’t decide if Gavin would get angrier the longer he waited, or if Gavin would cool down. But he realized that he didn’t really care. He’d take his dad’s advice and think things over, without distractions in the shape of Gavin.
“Have you tried calling him?” Harvey asked.
“He doesn’t need him,” Julian stated.
“The more I apologize the harder it’ll be to get him to come back,” Cabe sobbed, pausing to take a drag of his cigarette. “He’s too stubborn. The best I can do is leave him alone and hope he remembers me.”
“You could make him jealous by sleeping around,” Julian suggested. “I can help with that.”
“But Gavin would have to know about it,” Cabe sighed. “And I don’t even know where he is.”
Cabe looked at his cell phone, but didn’t see any messages waiting for him. Harvey rubbed Cabe’s back as Julian patted Cabe’s inner thigh. “It’ll be fine,” Harvey said. “He’ll be back for you, and then he’ll realize he wants a family and everything will be okay.”
“Yeah if you live in a fucking fairy tale world,” Julian said, upturning his nose at Harvey.
“I used to live in a fucking fairy tale world,” Cabe whined. “With emphasis on the fucking.”
The bar turned out to be a less than productive evening. Cabe went home feeling worse (though drunker) than he had when he left. He flopped down on the couch. Cabe definitely didn’t want to lay in an empty bed. He pulled out his cell phone and checked it again.
Still no messages from Gavin.
He stared at his phone, willing Gavin to call him. He’d be happy to just have Gavin yell at him more. He searched through his contacts, lingering on Gavin’s name.
Then he flipped back up to find his dad’s name. He knew he could call his dad at any time, in any state of mine. He pressed the phone to his ear and let it ring.
Cabe started coughing as he dad answered, “Hello?”
Cabe continued coughing, “Hello? Cabe?”
“S-sorry,” Cabe said, clearing his throat. “Sorry dad. Yes, it’s me.”
“You have a distinct cough,” his dad, laughed. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Shouldn’t your phone tell you that?” his dad asked. Cabe could hear his smile fading. “It’s one in the morning, is something wrong?”
“Dad,” Cabe started, “Gavin left me.”
His dad was quiet for a moment before asking, “What happened?”
Cabe told the story that Gavin had told Jeff hours before, the same story he told Harvey and Julian in the bar. His dad listened patiently.
Cabe found the tears welling up in his eyes as he told the story. He walked around the apartment to find a tissue for his nose. When he was finished he asked, “Dad, what do I do?”
“Well, Gavin’s not the type to come crawling back, is he?”
“Maybe,” Cabe said, timidly.
“Do you want to be in this relationship?”
Cabe hesitated. He wasn’t sure anymore. Gavin didn’t like his friends. Gavin didn’t want a family. Gavin thought he drank and smoke too much. He didn’t seem to like much about what made Cabe, Cabe.
“I don’t know, dad,” Cabe said.
“Then maybe you should take a break,” his dad said. “It could give you some time to think about it without him distracting you.”
“I feel terrible,” Cabe moaned.
“I know, son,” he replied. “But you’ll feel better soon. Maybe not tomorrow since it sounds like you’re going to have a hangover, but you’ll feel better.”
Cabe nodded, though his dad couldn’t see it. “Thanks dad,” he said. “Sorry for waking you up.”
“Ah, I was up anyway,” his dad said.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Cabe replied.
They exchanged goodnights and Cabe hung up the phone, resting it on his chest. He couldn’t decide if Gavin would get angrier the longer he waited, or if Gavin would cool down. But he realized that he didn’t really care. He’d take his dad’s advice and think things over, without distractions in the shape of Gavin.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
betsy: Day Four
Gavin squatted to look at the desserts behind the glass, but his mind wandered and he stopped really reading their descriptions. His mind drifted to the conversation, to the fight, he had earlier. A woman’s voice broke his wandering: “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” he said, standing up. The woman had surprised him, but he didn’t let it show. “Can I get a vitamin water and a slice of ‘The Straw that Broke the Camel’s Back’ cheesecake?”
Gavin stood in the bakery, squinting at the menu on the chalkboard. He desperately wanted to rewrite the menu on the board since the printing was so sloppy, but he wasn’t sure it’d be polite.
“We don’t have vitamin water,” the woman behind the counter replied. There was no excuse to use that tone with him. “We have filtered tap water, that’s free, or smoothies.”
“Do you have strawberries?” Gavin asked, squinting at the menu and rubbing his chin.
“We follow the 100-mile-diet and strawberries are out of season,” the woman replied, mechanically. “Except for chocolate and coffee, where we only use fair-trade products.”
“I’ll just have water, I guess,” Gavin said.
Everything was going wrong today. Gavin picked up a copy of the newspaper (some alternative crap) and took his slice of cheesecake to his table. The cake would ultimately end up on his thighs, but today it didn’t matter. Today was a day for cheesecake.
He scanned the alternative newspaper, checking his watch between periods. He wanted his brain to shut down, but it kept running back to the conversation. Gavin’s fork mutilated the cheesecake, shovelling it quickly into his mouth.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Yes,” Gavin replied. He was saving it for someone.
Gavin looked up as the man leaned on the chair. “I thought maybe you’d want some conversation while you ate the rest of your cheesecake,” the man suggested.
The man was heavy-set, bearded, and wore the ugliest hat Gavin had ever seen. There was clearly dirt under his nails, and a large (somewhat sleazy) smile on his face. He could see the freckles under his thick, blonde, arm hair. He was confident. He was fat. He was hairy. He was Gavin’s type.
Gavin’s eyes narrowed and the man took a step back, but Gavin used one of his long legs to push the chair away from the table. “Fine,” Gavin said, “but I am waiting for someone.”
“Sure,” the man said, sitting down. “I’m Jeff.”
“Gavin,” he said, wishing his newspaper was more interesting so he could look more interested in something other than the man.
Gavin took it as a sign. Here, he’d left the only man that made him happy, just to find another promising encounter. He didn’t need Cabel. He definitely didn’t need Cabel and his family-centric mind and his smoking.
The clerk set down a cup of coffee at Jeff’s spot, and Gavin noticed Jeff’s eyes follow the clerk for a moment before looking back to Gavin. Was he straight? Did he have a fetish for aprons and skirts? Maybe he was picturing Gavin in women’s clothes right now – but no, that was a fetish for girls on the internet. Maybe Jeff pretended to be a girl on the internet.
Maybe Gavin did need Cabel.
“So are you eating this particular cheesecake because you experienced the straw that breaks the camel’s back, or is it because you’re fond of the peanut butter and chocolate combination?” Jeff asked, wrapping his hands around his mug.
Gavin put on a superior, know-it-all tone. “Can it be both?”
“Of course it can,” he replied, laughing. “Did you know that studies have shown when you tell strange men your problems, you almost always feel better afterwards?”
“Is this something to do with the Catholic Church, confessionals and priests?”
Gavin saw Jeff’s teeth in his smile. “Tell me what happened.”
“You know what, I’m meeting someone here to tell her what happened,” Gavin replied. “Right now I’m just trying to forget what happened.”
“Well,” Jeff said, taking a sip of tea, “if you forget what happened, you can’t exactly tell her what happened properly, can you?”
“Tell me about yourself,” Gavin said. “So your name is Jeff Something. What do you do aside from hassle people in alternative bakeries?”
“I rattle bones,” Jeff said, “but mainly the dead ones. And my last name is Grant. Is it a relationship problem? Some man break your heart?”
“Do you want to know what it really is, Jeff?”
“Sure.”
“None of your goddamn business.”
Jeff hid his smile by taking another drink from his mug. “So he left you then, did he?”
“No, I left him,” Gavin snapped.
Jeff relaxed. Gavin stabbed the remainder of the cheesecake and stuffed it in his mouth. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but he was still angry. He wanted to rage about it.
“Fine, you really want to hear about it?” Gavin said.
“Yes,” Jeff said, “I really do.”
“I can’t really remember what started it,” Gavin began.
…
Gavin had just been minding his own business when Cabe confronted him and acted as if he had a bone to pick with him. Cabe was rarely confrontational, but whenever he was like that around Gavin, Gavin took it as a challenge. He wasn’t one to stand down in an argument.
“I don’t get it,” Cabe said. “We should be married by now.”
“I’m not marrying you,” Gavin said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t take it personally, I just don’t want to be married right now.”
“Right, because it makes you feel old,” Cabe said.
“Yes.”
“Well Gavin, we’re not immortal,” he said. “We’re going to get old. You know that body of yours that you flaunt around? Well parts of it are going to sag and wrinkle. Parts that you don’t want to wiggle are going to start to fucking wiggle.”
“Fuck you,” Gavin snapped. “You just want to get married so you can adopt fucking kids.”
“That’s right,” Cabe replied. “I want a family.”
“Did you ever think that maybe I don’t?” Gavin asked. “I don’t want kids.”
“Well then you don’t want me,” Cabe said.
“Maybe I don’t,” Gavin said. “You drink too much and you smoke too much and your friends are all losers with no aspirations or goals.”
“Like working in a fucking hair salon is an aspiration.”
“I have a job,” Gavin said. “I have clients that would follow me if I switched salons. I will never be out of work. I’m sorry if I don’t think being a rock star is a realistic goal.”
“They do have other jobs,” Cabe said.
“Yeah, loitering in our apartment,” Gavin said.
Cabe folded his arms across his chest. “You can’t just insult my friends like that. They’re my friends. I don’t judge your friends, or I wouldn’t if you had any.”
“Well I don’t need anyone.”
“Then you don’t need me,” Cabe replied.
“Maybe I don’t,” Gavin said. “Maybe I’ll just fuck off out of here.”
“Maybe you should,” he replied. “But I don’t think you’d last one day without anyone.”
“Fuck, if you and your friends aren’t crowding up here, you’re out spending weeks at the bar. Some days I don’t even see you because you’re off getting drunk, supporting their shitty bands.”
“You should get out and try to prove me wrong,” Cabe said.
“I will,” Gavin said, stomping towards the door. “And I won’t be back.”
“What about your shit?” Cabe asked.
“I don’t need it,” Gavin said, opening the door. “I don’t need fucking anything!”
And he slammed the door as he stepped out. He forgot his wallet though. Fuck.
Gavin stepped back in. “Except for my fucking wallet,” he said.
He felt Cabe’s green eyes watch him as he stomped through the apartment to grab his apartment. He half-expected Cabe to crack and apologize, but it only made him angrier to think that it could be solved this easily. He left again without a word, and he waited until he was in the elevator to call his sister. He’d need a place to stay.
…
“So she told me to meet her here so I could tell her what happened,” Gavin said. “And she said she’d let me crash at her place.”
“What’s your sister’s name?” Jeff asked.
Gavin worried for a moment that Jeff was straight and interested in his sister. “Tulip,” Gavin said. “She’s my half-sister.”
“Tulip,” Jeff said. “I know Tulip! She’s in here all the time, Georgia adores her.”
“Georgia?” Gavin asked.
Jeff pointed to the clerk who was chatting happily to what appeared to be a stoned, homeless person with dreadlocks. Gavin upturned his nose and simply replied, “Oh.”
He paused a moment before saying, “Yes, Tulip’s great. I love her.”
Jeff nodded, his blue eyes scanning across Gavin’s features. Gavin tried to ignore the fact that he was being checked out. “Well, I’ll leave you to wait for your sister in peace,” Jeff said, checking his watch. “I’ve got to run. But if you need anything,” Jeff wrote down his number on a smudged napkin, “here’s my number. I’d be glad to take you out for a drink or something.”
Gavin stayed straight-faced as Jeff winked at him. “Okay, maybe,” Gavin said. “Thanks.”
Jeff gave a wave to the clerk as he stepped out of the store. Gavin folded the napkin into his pocket. It sure would show Cabel if he already found another guy to screw.
Cabel, on the other hand, was not thinking about vengeance. He was hardly even thinking about anything. He just drank more and rested his head on his arm. It didn’t feel right doing anything else. He was in a bar, he had to drink anyway.
He kept telling himself Gavin would be home when he got home.
“Yes,” he said, standing up. The woman had surprised him, but he didn’t let it show. “Can I get a vitamin water and a slice of ‘The Straw that Broke the Camel’s Back’ cheesecake?”
Gavin stood in the bakery, squinting at the menu on the chalkboard. He desperately wanted to rewrite the menu on the board since the printing was so sloppy, but he wasn’t sure it’d be polite.
“We don’t have vitamin water,” the woman behind the counter replied. There was no excuse to use that tone with him. “We have filtered tap water, that’s free, or smoothies.”
“Do you have strawberries?” Gavin asked, squinting at the menu and rubbing his chin.
“We follow the 100-mile-diet and strawberries are out of season,” the woman replied, mechanically. “Except for chocolate and coffee, where we only use fair-trade products.”
“I’ll just have water, I guess,” Gavin said.
Everything was going wrong today. Gavin picked up a copy of the newspaper (some alternative crap) and took his slice of cheesecake to his table. The cake would ultimately end up on his thighs, but today it didn’t matter. Today was a day for cheesecake.
He scanned the alternative newspaper, checking his watch between periods. He wanted his brain to shut down, but it kept running back to the conversation. Gavin’s fork mutilated the cheesecake, shovelling it quickly into his mouth.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Yes,” Gavin replied. He was saving it for someone.
Gavin looked up as the man leaned on the chair. “I thought maybe you’d want some conversation while you ate the rest of your cheesecake,” the man suggested.
The man was heavy-set, bearded, and wore the ugliest hat Gavin had ever seen. There was clearly dirt under his nails, and a large (somewhat sleazy) smile on his face. He could see the freckles under his thick, blonde, arm hair. He was confident. He was fat. He was hairy. He was Gavin’s type.
Gavin’s eyes narrowed and the man took a step back, but Gavin used one of his long legs to push the chair away from the table. “Fine,” Gavin said, “but I am waiting for someone.”
“Sure,” the man said, sitting down. “I’m Jeff.”
“Gavin,” he said, wishing his newspaper was more interesting so he could look more interested in something other than the man.
Gavin took it as a sign. Here, he’d left the only man that made him happy, just to find another promising encounter. He didn’t need Cabel. He definitely didn’t need Cabel and his family-centric mind and his smoking.
The clerk set down a cup of coffee at Jeff’s spot, and Gavin noticed Jeff’s eyes follow the clerk for a moment before looking back to Gavin. Was he straight? Did he have a fetish for aprons and skirts? Maybe he was picturing Gavin in women’s clothes right now – but no, that was a fetish for girls on the internet. Maybe Jeff pretended to be a girl on the internet.
Maybe Gavin did need Cabel.
“So are you eating this particular cheesecake because you experienced the straw that breaks the camel’s back, or is it because you’re fond of the peanut butter and chocolate combination?” Jeff asked, wrapping his hands around his mug.
Gavin put on a superior, know-it-all tone. “Can it be both?”
“Of course it can,” he replied, laughing. “Did you know that studies have shown when you tell strange men your problems, you almost always feel better afterwards?”
“Is this something to do with the Catholic Church, confessionals and priests?”
Gavin saw Jeff’s teeth in his smile. “Tell me what happened.”
“You know what, I’m meeting someone here to tell her what happened,” Gavin replied. “Right now I’m just trying to forget what happened.”
“Well,” Jeff said, taking a sip of tea, “if you forget what happened, you can’t exactly tell her what happened properly, can you?”
“Tell me about yourself,” Gavin said. “So your name is Jeff Something. What do you do aside from hassle people in alternative bakeries?”
“I rattle bones,” Jeff said, “but mainly the dead ones. And my last name is Grant. Is it a relationship problem? Some man break your heart?”
“Do you want to know what it really is, Jeff?”
“Sure.”
“None of your goddamn business.”
Jeff hid his smile by taking another drink from his mug. “So he left you then, did he?”
“No, I left him,” Gavin snapped.
Jeff relaxed. Gavin stabbed the remainder of the cheesecake and stuffed it in his mouth. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but he was still angry. He wanted to rage about it.
“Fine, you really want to hear about it?” Gavin said.
“Yes,” Jeff said, “I really do.”
“I can’t really remember what started it,” Gavin began.
…
Gavin had just been minding his own business when Cabe confronted him and acted as if he had a bone to pick with him. Cabe was rarely confrontational, but whenever he was like that around Gavin, Gavin took it as a challenge. He wasn’t one to stand down in an argument.
“I don’t get it,” Cabe said. “We should be married by now.”
“I’m not marrying you,” Gavin said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t take it personally, I just don’t want to be married right now.”
“Right, because it makes you feel old,” Cabe said.
“Yes.”
“Well Gavin, we’re not immortal,” he said. “We’re going to get old. You know that body of yours that you flaunt around? Well parts of it are going to sag and wrinkle. Parts that you don’t want to wiggle are going to start to fucking wiggle.”
“Fuck you,” Gavin snapped. “You just want to get married so you can adopt fucking kids.”
“That’s right,” Cabe replied. “I want a family.”
“Did you ever think that maybe I don’t?” Gavin asked. “I don’t want kids.”
“Well then you don’t want me,” Cabe said.
“Maybe I don’t,” Gavin said. “You drink too much and you smoke too much and your friends are all losers with no aspirations or goals.”
“Like working in a fucking hair salon is an aspiration.”
“I have a job,” Gavin said. “I have clients that would follow me if I switched salons. I will never be out of work. I’m sorry if I don’t think being a rock star is a realistic goal.”
“They do have other jobs,” Cabe said.
“Yeah, loitering in our apartment,” Gavin said.
Cabe folded his arms across his chest. “You can’t just insult my friends like that. They’re my friends. I don’t judge your friends, or I wouldn’t if you had any.”
“Well I don’t need anyone.”
“Then you don’t need me,” Cabe replied.
“Maybe I don’t,” Gavin said. “Maybe I’ll just fuck off out of here.”
“Maybe you should,” he replied. “But I don’t think you’d last one day without anyone.”
“Fuck, if you and your friends aren’t crowding up here, you’re out spending weeks at the bar. Some days I don’t even see you because you’re off getting drunk, supporting their shitty bands.”
“You should get out and try to prove me wrong,” Cabe said.
“I will,” Gavin said, stomping towards the door. “And I won’t be back.”
“What about your shit?” Cabe asked.
“I don’t need it,” Gavin said, opening the door. “I don’t need fucking anything!”
And he slammed the door as he stepped out. He forgot his wallet though. Fuck.
Gavin stepped back in. “Except for my fucking wallet,” he said.
He felt Cabe’s green eyes watch him as he stomped through the apartment to grab his apartment. He half-expected Cabe to crack and apologize, but it only made him angrier to think that it could be solved this easily. He left again without a word, and he waited until he was in the elevator to call his sister. He’d need a place to stay.
…
“So she told me to meet her here so I could tell her what happened,” Gavin said. “And she said she’d let me crash at her place.”
“What’s your sister’s name?” Jeff asked.
Gavin worried for a moment that Jeff was straight and interested in his sister. “Tulip,” Gavin said. “She’s my half-sister.”
“Tulip,” Jeff said. “I know Tulip! She’s in here all the time, Georgia adores her.”
“Georgia?” Gavin asked.
Jeff pointed to the clerk who was chatting happily to what appeared to be a stoned, homeless person with dreadlocks. Gavin upturned his nose and simply replied, “Oh.”
He paused a moment before saying, “Yes, Tulip’s great. I love her.”
Jeff nodded, his blue eyes scanning across Gavin’s features. Gavin tried to ignore the fact that he was being checked out. “Well, I’ll leave you to wait for your sister in peace,” Jeff said, checking his watch. “I’ve got to run. But if you need anything,” Jeff wrote down his number on a smudged napkin, “here’s my number. I’d be glad to take you out for a drink or something.”
Gavin stayed straight-faced as Jeff winked at him. “Okay, maybe,” Gavin said. “Thanks.”
Jeff gave a wave to the clerk as he stepped out of the store. Gavin folded the napkin into his pocket. It sure would show Cabel if he already found another guy to screw.
Cabel, on the other hand, was not thinking about vengeance. He was hardly even thinking about anything. He just drank more and rested his head on his arm. It didn’t feel right doing anything else. He was in a bar, he had to drink anyway.
He kept telling himself Gavin would be home when he got home.
Friday, October 22, 2010
betsy: Day Three
And for the first time in America, Lars felt normal. Kissing River felt normal. He didn’t feel like a giant or a fag or alienated by River’s intoxication or like he was a fragment of industry in River’s forest of an apartment. Lars felt normal with River’s tongue flicking against his. And if a good fuck was going to make him feel normal, he was going to get that good fuck.
Lars pushed River against a wall knocking over a shoe. Lars felt River’s leg press against his groin as he pressed his tongue into his mouth. Lars flipped River around, his face pressed against the textured wallpaper. Lars moved his dreadlocks aside so he could kiss his neck. “Let me show you how happy I am that you’re here.”
“Wait,” River said, struggling against Lars pin. “Let me get some, you know.”
Lars released him, trying not to sigh, and let River hunt around in his apartment. He knew a more natural way of doing things, but he just wasn’t aggressive enough to suggest that sort of thing to River. River came back with a small jar and a large smile. He tossed it to Lars, who missed catching it. As Lars bent over to pick it off the ground, River said, “Now push me against the wall again, that was awesome.”
Smirking, Lars said, “Whatever you want.”
River eagerly pulled down his pants as Lars pushed him against the wall with his arm. The arm pinning River held the jar, and Lars dipped the fingers of his free hand inside the jar before pressing them gently into River’s ass. He worried River liked things a bit rougher, but Lars preferred a slow and steady pace. It just meant he’d be able to go longer, he supposed, like the tortoise, instead of having to take a nap halfway through like the rabbit.
Lars heard River make a pleased noise, and Lars used the clean fingers to try to unbutton his own pants. It was a bit of a struggle, but River didn’t seem to notice that he had temporarily stopped. He slathered the rest of the lubricant across his erection, setting down the jar on one of the crooked shelves. He held River by the hips, pressing his chest against River’s back to keep him pinned. He slowly pushed himself into River, making sure River didn’t wince from the pain.
River moaned as if Lars was pumping into him at 150 miles per hour.
He moved all of River’s hair to one of side of his head so he could breathe against River’s cheek without any hindrance. He kissed River’s ear before pumping harder into him.
He felt River buck back, grinding up against him, trying to get him to be rougher. River’s own erection pressed against the wall, throbbing from lack of attention. Lars pressed River’s hands against the wall, thrusting harder into him. River moaned his name and something about posies and rainbows. Lars just kissed River’s shoulder blade.
River continued bucking roughly against Lars, causing Lars to breathe harder against River’s cheek and increase his speed to match River. River began cursing, “Fuck Lars,” he said. “Shit.”
Lars tried to decide if the curses were good or bad (he assumed good), and he finally decided to jerk River off while thrusting into him. His thumb teased the head of River’s erection, and his hand chaffed against the wallpaper.
Both began panting heavier, Lars feeling the sweat weight down his shirt. River moaned happily, mixing in Lars’ name with various curses and what he assumed were parts of plants. Lars felt River start to spill into his hands, and he let out a gasp as he came against the wall.
Embarrassed at his bad timing, Lars quickly pumped into River, finishing off with a grunt.
River leaned back against Lars, and Lars kissed his neck. “I missed you so much,” River said, flipping over to hug Lars. “But I never forgot how great you are.”
“I appreciate that,” Lars replied. “But do you know what else I’d appreciate?”
“Another round?” River asked. “I’d probably be good to go soon.”
“Well, maybe later,” Lars said, sheepishly. It’d be a while before he was ready again. “I’d love a shower though.” He repeated, “It was a long flight.”
“All right,” River replied, pouting. “But only if I can come too.”
Lars nodded and River led the way to the bathroom. Lars glanced at the walls with “found” objects (he suspected dumpster diving) and with every strange object, Lars found himself feeling more and more at home.
Lars pushed River against a wall knocking over a shoe. Lars felt River’s leg press against his groin as he pressed his tongue into his mouth. Lars flipped River around, his face pressed against the textured wallpaper. Lars moved his dreadlocks aside so he could kiss his neck. “Let me show you how happy I am that you’re here.”
“Wait,” River said, struggling against Lars pin. “Let me get some, you know.”
Lars released him, trying not to sigh, and let River hunt around in his apartment. He knew a more natural way of doing things, but he just wasn’t aggressive enough to suggest that sort of thing to River. River came back with a small jar and a large smile. He tossed it to Lars, who missed catching it. As Lars bent over to pick it off the ground, River said, “Now push me against the wall again, that was awesome.”
Smirking, Lars said, “Whatever you want.”
River eagerly pulled down his pants as Lars pushed him against the wall with his arm. The arm pinning River held the jar, and Lars dipped the fingers of his free hand inside the jar before pressing them gently into River’s ass. He worried River liked things a bit rougher, but Lars preferred a slow and steady pace. It just meant he’d be able to go longer, he supposed, like the tortoise, instead of having to take a nap halfway through like the rabbit.
Lars heard River make a pleased noise, and Lars used the clean fingers to try to unbutton his own pants. It was a bit of a struggle, but River didn’t seem to notice that he had temporarily stopped. He slathered the rest of the lubricant across his erection, setting down the jar on one of the crooked shelves. He held River by the hips, pressing his chest against River’s back to keep him pinned. He slowly pushed himself into River, making sure River didn’t wince from the pain.
River moaned as if Lars was pumping into him at 150 miles per hour.
He moved all of River’s hair to one of side of his head so he could breathe against River’s cheek without any hindrance. He kissed River’s ear before pumping harder into him.
He felt River buck back, grinding up against him, trying to get him to be rougher. River’s own erection pressed against the wall, throbbing from lack of attention. Lars pressed River’s hands against the wall, thrusting harder into him. River moaned his name and something about posies and rainbows. Lars just kissed River’s shoulder blade.
River continued bucking roughly against Lars, causing Lars to breathe harder against River’s cheek and increase his speed to match River. River began cursing, “Fuck Lars,” he said. “Shit.”
Lars tried to decide if the curses were good or bad (he assumed good), and he finally decided to jerk River off while thrusting into him. His thumb teased the head of River’s erection, and his hand chaffed against the wallpaper.
Both began panting heavier, Lars feeling the sweat weight down his shirt. River moaned happily, mixing in Lars’ name with various curses and what he assumed were parts of plants. Lars felt River start to spill into his hands, and he let out a gasp as he came against the wall.
Embarrassed at his bad timing, Lars quickly pumped into River, finishing off with a grunt.
River leaned back against Lars, and Lars kissed his neck. “I missed you so much,” River said, flipping over to hug Lars. “But I never forgot how great you are.”
“I appreciate that,” Lars replied. “But do you know what else I’d appreciate?”
“Another round?” River asked. “I’d probably be good to go soon.”
“Well, maybe later,” Lars said, sheepishly. It’d be a while before he was ready again. “I’d love a shower though.” He repeated, “It was a long flight.”
“All right,” River replied, pouting. “But only if I can come too.”
Lars nodded and River led the way to the bathroom. Lars glanced at the walls with “found” objects (he suspected dumpster diving) and with every strange object, Lars found himself feeling more and more at home.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
betsy: Day Two
Lars slid into the seat beside River in the cab, feeling the cab slightly sway under his weight. River gave the address to the cabbie, affectionately patting Lars’ leg. Lars buckled up as the cab driver swerved into the street. As River twisted his fingers into Lars hair, he said, “I’m so glad that you’re here, Lars. I can’t wait until you see the place, it’s great.”
Lars took River’s hands and held it in his lap, trying to avoid the confused gaze of the cab driver. River started talking about the areas that they were going to have sex in and Lars cleared his throat. “Maybe we should wait to talk about this until we’re at home.”
“But I want you to be ready when we get there,” River whined, his hand grabbing at Lars’ groin. “Like, completely ready.”
“I’m not comfortable with this arrangement,” Lars tried to explain, pulling River away.
“I’m not very good at topping,” River said. “You’re so much better.”
“No, I mean,” Lars said. “I am not comfortable talking about this in the car.”
“Why?” River asked, the cab coming to a sharp stop. “Oh we’re here now anyway.”
Lars was grateful. He watched River pay for the cab as he stood up and made sure his sweater was pulled down. He began unpacking his luggage, to save the cab driver the trouble. River clung to Lars’ arm, pointing in the direction that they were heading.
Lars got pulled ahead by River and he inspected the inside of the apartment building. It seemed nice enough. It was locked, at least, and he watched River struggling unlocking it. “It gets stuck on the time,” River said. “It’s so stupid.”
He eventually managed to pull it open and they started walking past the elevator. “I want to take the stairs!” River exclaimed.
“It’s been a long flight,” Lars said. “I don’t want to have to lug this suitcase up stairs.” He also didn’t want to carry River up the stairs, but he didn’t mention that part.
“But it’s only on the 7th floor,” River said, staring at Lars as if he was ridiculous.
Lars pressed the button to the elevator and waited with River pacing around him, pulling at Lars’ belt and playing with Lars’ fingers. When the elevator door opened, River pushed him in. Lars found himself ambushed by River’s lips under his neck, his swiftly growing facial hair scratching against Lars’ smooth skin.
Laughing, Lars kissed River’s forehead. “We’ll be like two seconds,” Lars said. “Can’t you wait two seconds?”
River wrapped his hands around Lars’ waist, burrowing his face in Lars’ chest. “I’m just really glad you’re here.”
Lars stroked River’s dreadlocks. “I am too,” he replied.
The elevator door opened and they stepped out. River led him to his apartment and opened the door. Lars felt the air change as he stepped into River’s place. It was as if his apartment had air of its own.
When Lars looked around, he realized the reason why the apartment has its own hair. River had turned the apartment into a forest. A large flower grew in his TV, where the screen should have been. His shelves were littered with mismatched shoes, each having their own plants reaching out of them. There was a tree growing in the corner of his apartment, and it seemed to be growing into a toilet. He worried what River’s bed looked like, he wasn’t sure he’d like sleeping on moss.
But River made it clear he had no intention of sleeping. He pushed Lars forward, to get him out of the doorway, and shut and locked the door behind him. He groped Lars’ rear and wrapped one arm around his back.
“What do you think?” River asked. “You love it, don’t you?”
Lars hesitated. “I love that you’re here,” he said, holding River.
He tucked his head next to River’s, breathing in and kissing his neck. River guided Lars’ mouth against his, finally getting a kiss he wanted.
->Option One!:
River pulled Lars against a wall knocking over a show. Lars felt River’s leg press against his groin as he pressed his tongue into his mouth.
River turned himself around. “Show me how happy you are that you’re here,” River said, grinding his ass against Lars’ growing excitement.
->Option Two!:
Lars pushed River against a wall knocking over a shoe. Lars felt River’s leg press against his groin as he pressed his tongue into his mouth.
Lars flipped River around, his face pressed against the textured wallpaper. Lars moved his dreadlocks aside so he could kiss his neck. “Let me show you how happy I am that you’re here.”
Lars took River’s hands and held it in his lap, trying to avoid the confused gaze of the cab driver. River started talking about the areas that they were going to have sex in and Lars cleared his throat. “Maybe we should wait to talk about this until we’re at home.”
“But I want you to be ready when we get there,” River whined, his hand grabbing at Lars’ groin. “Like, completely ready.”
“I’m not comfortable with this arrangement,” Lars tried to explain, pulling River away.
“I’m not very good at topping,” River said. “You’re so much better.”
“No, I mean,” Lars said. “I am not comfortable talking about this in the car.”
“Why?” River asked, the cab coming to a sharp stop. “Oh we’re here now anyway.”
Lars was grateful. He watched River pay for the cab as he stood up and made sure his sweater was pulled down. He began unpacking his luggage, to save the cab driver the trouble. River clung to Lars’ arm, pointing in the direction that they were heading.
Lars got pulled ahead by River and he inspected the inside of the apartment building. It seemed nice enough. It was locked, at least, and he watched River struggling unlocking it. “It gets stuck on the time,” River said. “It’s so stupid.”
He eventually managed to pull it open and they started walking past the elevator. “I want to take the stairs!” River exclaimed.
“It’s been a long flight,” Lars said. “I don’t want to have to lug this suitcase up stairs.” He also didn’t want to carry River up the stairs, but he didn’t mention that part.
“But it’s only on the 7th floor,” River said, staring at Lars as if he was ridiculous.
Lars pressed the button to the elevator and waited with River pacing around him, pulling at Lars’ belt and playing with Lars’ fingers. When the elevator door opened, River pushed him in. Lars found himself ambushed by River’s lips under his neck, his swiftly growing facial hair scratching against Lars’ smooth skin.
Laughing, Lars kissed River’s forehead. “We’ll be like two seconds,” Lars said. “Can’t you wait two seconds?”
River wrapped his hands around Lars’ waist, burrowing his face in Lars’ chest. “I’m just really glad you’re here.”
Lars stroked River’s dreadlocks. “I am too,” he replied.
The elevator door opened and they stepped out. River led him to his apartment and opened the door. Lars felt the air change as he stepped into River’s place. It was as if his apartment had air of its own.
When Lars looked around, he realized the reason why the apartment has its own hair. River had turned the apartment into a forest. A large flower grew in his TV, where the screen should have been. His shelves were littered with mismatched shoes, each having their own plants reaching out of them. There was a tree growing in the corner of his apartment, and it seemed to be growing into a toilet. He worried what River’s bed looked like, he wasn’t sure he’d like sleeping on moss.
But River made it clear he had no intention of sleeping. He pushed Lars forward, to get him out of the doorway, and shut and locked the door behind him. He groped Lars’ rear and wrapped one arm around his back.
“What do you think?” River asked. “You love it, don’t you?”
Lars hesitated. “I love that you’re here,” he said, holding River.
He tucked his head next to River’s, breathing in and kissing his neck. River guided Lars’ mouth against his, finally getting a kiss he wanted.
->Option One!:
River pulled Lars against a wall knocking over a show. Lars felt River’s leg press against his groin as he pressed his tongue into his mouth.
River turned himself around. “Show me how happy you are that you’re here,” River said, grinding his ass against Lars’ growing excitement.
->Option Two!:
Lars pushed River against a wall knocking over a shoe. Lars felt River’s leg press against his groin as he pressed his tongue into his mouth.
Lars flipped River around, his face pressed against the textured wallpaper. Lars moved his dreadlocks aside so he could kiss his neck. “Let me show you how happy I am that you’re here.”
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
betsy: Day One
Lars stepped into the airport. American air smelt different. It felt thicker, as if the air itself tried to breathe in the population and all the opportunity. Or maybe it was just pollution, he couldn’t really tell. He breathed in deeply, his pale green eyes scanning the surroundings.
“WOO! LARS!”
A small skinny male, yelled and lifted his shirt as if his chest would be something to recognize. There was a small tuft of hair there that Lars did recognize.
“LARS! LOOK HERE!”
Lars squinted to see his name spelt across River’s chest. He wasn’t sure a brown marker was the best choice when his skin was already so tan.
Lars shyly approached River, trying to ignore the gaping eyes of the other people in the airport. He could feel his cheeks burning, and River quickly wrapped his arms around Lars neck. Lars felt the light weight of River as he completely leaned against him. River kissed under his chin, groping Lars’ extensive rear.
When Lars opened his eyes after the kiss, he stared into River’s red-stained blue eyes. He was stoned. Why would he want to be stoned the first time he saw Lars in America? Lars pulled down River’s shirt and felt River crawl up his body. He ultimately shat on Lars’ hunched shoulders, leaning on his head.
“Let’s get your luggage!” River announced as if it would be a grand adventure.
“Okay,” Lars said, trying to be enthusiastic for River.
Lars hobbled, carrying River over to the luggage. Lars grabbed his suitcase from the baggage carousel, and he grabbed River as River tried to climb on. River whined. “Come on,” River said. “Let’s play on it.”
“It was a long flight,” Lars said. “I kind of just want to crash.”
“Do you want to crash with me?” River asked, leaning back against Lars, kissing his chin.
“Sure,” Lars said quickly.
River curled back against Lars, wrapping around him as if Lars was wearing a backpack on backwards. He had a hard time supporting River while carrying the suitcase. “Hey, I don’t know where I should go,” Lars said.
River jumped off of him. “Let me lead the way!” he demanded. “Follow me.”
River kept his arms in the air, helping Lars see him through the crowd in the airport. He had to keep a quick pace to follow him, and he found himself out of breath. His cheeks burned from the pressure, but as he stepped out into the (somewhat fresher) air, he saw River holding onto a cab. “I don’t have any American money,” Lars said.
“I’ll pay for the cab,” River said, simply.
Lars watched the cab driver help him with the suitcase. River already was sitting in the cab, the car moving up and down in tune with River’s vibrations. Lars worried River would try to make out with him in the cab. He wasn’t sure he could handle the cab driver watching them through the rear view mirror.
“WOO! LARS!”
A small skinny male, yelled and lifted his shirt as if his chest would be something to recognize. There was a small tuft of hair there that Lars did recognize.
“LARS! LOOK HERE!”
Lars squinted to see his name spelt across River’s chest. He wasn’t sure a brown marker was the best choice when his skin was already so tan.
Lars shyly approached River, trying to ignore the gaping eyes of the other people in the airport. He could feel his cheeks burning, and River quickly wrapped his arms around Lars neck. Lars felt the light weight of River as he completely leaned against him. River kissed under his chin, groping Lars’ extensive rear.
When Lars opened his eyes after the kiss, he stared into River’s red-stained blue eyes. He was stoned. Why would he want to be stoned the first time he saw Lars in America? Lars pulled down River’s shirt and felt River crawl up his body. He ultimately shat on Lars’ hunched shoulders, leaning on his head.
“Let’s get your luggage!” River announced as if it would be a grand adventure.
“Okay,” Lars said, trying to be enthusiastic for River.
Lars hobbled, carrying River over to the luggage. Lars grabbed his suitcase from the baggage carousel, and he grabbed River as River tried to climb on. River whined. “Come on,” River said. “Let’s play on it.”
“It was a long flight,” Lars said. “I kind of just want to crash.”
“Do you want to crash with me?” River asked, leaning back against Lars, kissing his chin.
“Sure,” Lars said quickly.
River curled back against Lars, wrapping around him as if Lars was wearing a backpack on backwards. He had a hard time supporting River while carrying the suitcase. “Hey, I don’t know where I should go,” Lars said.
River jumped off of him. “Let me lead the way!” he demanded. “Follow me.”
River kept his arms in the air, helping Lars see him through the crowd in the airport. He had to keep a quick pace to follow him, and he found himself out of breath. His cheeks burned from the pressure, but as he stepped out into the (somewhat fresher) air, he saw River holding onto a cab. “I don’t have any American money,” Lars said.
“I’ll pay for the cab,” River said, simply.
Lars watched the cab driver help him with the suitcase. River already was sitting in the cab, the car moving up and down in tune with River’s vibrations. Lars worried River would try to make out with him in the cab. He wasn’t sure he could handle the cab driver watching them through the rear view mirror.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Ara Flatermor: Day Seven
And the man fired. Angie thought he was going to fire the relief right off of Pepin’s face, but it hit his leg. Pepin limped forward, seemingly unaffected by the wound. The man probably thought it was rage, as Pepin’s face only displayed it. His eyebrows were close to his narrow eyes, his teeth bared. His blue eyes were filled with nothing but hate.
Angie fought for a moment, struggling to get out of the chair. But what could she do? The man was dead now, as he probably should be, joining his brothers in whatever afterlife he believed in.
She couldn’t move when the man shot Pepin again in the arm.
She couldn’t move when Pepin broke through the front door.
She couldn’t move as the man reloaded.
She couldn’t move as Pepin tore open the man’s stomach.
Pepin and her made eye contact as the man spit up blood. Maybe their shared soul could help them read each other’s minds, or maybe Angie’s soul suppressed Pepin’s rage and filled him with compassion.
The man shot Pepin in the chest.
Or maybe Pepin just wanted to be dead for once.
Pepin spit up blood in a similar manner, and his eyes rolled back, turning bloodshot. The man smiled, showing the red tint of his teeth.
“I did it,” he said, his voice rasping. He looked to Angie, falling to his knees. “I’m sorry.”
And his eyes stayed on her as his head hit the ground. She struggled to free herself again, but she couldn’t escape, she couldn’t escape his gaze. She watched as his breaths grew less consistent. She could have looked away, she could have stared at Pepin instead, but she couldn’t break the man’s gaze, even as his eyes clouded over and his breath stopped.
Pepin got up. “I thought he’d never go,” he said. “I’ve almost fully healed.”
Angie smiled, feeling Pepin’s bloodied hands cup her cheeks. “Are you all right, meine Schatz?”
“I’m fine,” Angie said, almost laughing. “I’m fine.”
He kissed her on the lips, and she breathed him in. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go, regardless of how awkward and uncomfortable that would be. Of course, she was still tied to the chair.
Angie pulled away from the kiss early. “Could you untie me, please?”
“Of course,” Pepin said, slicing the ropes carefully with his nails. He lifted her into his arms. “Now let’s get you into a warm bath.”
“That sounds lovely,” Angie said, resting her head against his chest. “But I can walk. I’d really like to use my own legs.”
He set her down and she found herself looking at the body of the man. “I’ll get someone to clean it up,” Pepin said.
Angie nodded, biting her bottom lip. She didn’t like the idea of the body just being tossed into the ocean, but they couldn’t exactly give him a proper burial. He was still a criminal after all.
Pepin put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, no one will know.”
Angie fought for a moment, struggling to get out of the chair. But what could she do? The man was dead now, as he probably should be, joining his brothers in whatever afterlife he believed in.
She couldn’t move when the man shot Pepin again in the arm.
She couldn’t move when Pepin broke through the front door.
She couldn’t move as the man reloaded.
She couldn’t move as Pepin tore open the man’s stomach.
Pepin and her made eye contact as the man spit up blood. Maybe their shared soul could help them read each other’s minds, or maybe Angie’s soul suppressed Pepin’s rage and filled him with compassion.
The man shot Pepin in the chest.
Or maybe Pepin just wanted to be dead for once.
Pepin spit up blood in a similar manner, and his eyes rolled back, turning bloodshot. The man smiled, showing the red tint of his teeth.
“I did it,” he said, his voice rasping. He looked to Angie, falling to his knees. “I’m sorry.”
And his eyes stayed on her as his head hit the ground. She struggled to free herself again, but she couldn’t escape, she couldn’t escape his gaze. She watched as his breaths grew less consistent. She could have looked away, she could have stared at Pepin instead, but she couldn’t break the man’s gaze, even as his eyes clouded over and his breath stopped.
Pepin got up. “I thought he’d never go,” he said. “I’ve almost fully healed.”
Angie smiled, feeling Pepin’s bloodied hands cup her cheeks. “Are you all right, meine Schatz?”
“I’m fine,” Angie said, almost laughing. “I’m fine.”
He kissed her on the lips, and she breathed him in. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go, regardless of how awkward and uncomfortable that would be. Of course, she was still tied to the chair.
Angie pulled away from the kiss early. “Could you untie me, please?”
“Of course,” Pepin said, slicing the ropes carefully with his nails. He lifted her into his arms. “Now let’s get you into a warm bath.”
“That sounds lovely,” Angie said, resting her head against his chest. “But I can walk. I’d really like to use my own legs.”
He set her down and she found herself looking at the body of the man. “I’ll get someone to clean it up,” Pepin said.
Angie nodded, biting her bottom lip. She didn’t like the idea of the body just being tossed into the ocean, but they couldn’t exactly give him a proper burial. He was still a criminal after all.
Pepin put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, no one will know.”
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Ara Flatermor: Day Six
She remembered when she first started working with Pepin, when Vanessa had hired her to get close to him and poison him. She was still focussed on getting the job done, though Pepin was slowly making her reconsider. But one specific evening she was skulking around, trying to find anything that would aid her job.[1]
He was having a business meeting, except it wasn’t exactly a business meeting. It was in the basement of the house.[2] She couldn’t exactly waltz into the basement and ask what was happening, so she leaned through the doorway, catching an illuminated body. The hanging lamp swung back and forth, but she saw enough.
He was tied to a chair, like she was now. But she saw a glistening red liquid on the ground. He bled across the unfinished basement floor. She heard voices, but she couldn’t make out the conversation. There were words exchanged, but she heard the man screaming. She saw Pepin’s form lean over him, drinking the fresh blood, not the mess on the floor.
That only made the man scream more. He asked what kind of monster Pepin was, and Angie found herself wondered too. What kind of man could be so kind to her and so violent and horrific to others? She worried, wondering when she’d see that side of him directed at her. He begged Pepin he’d tell him everything he knew, but even Angie knew it was too late. He’d already seen Pepin for what he was, and that meant he couldn’t live any longer.
It wasn’t the only thing she witnesses. Whenever she found herself falling too hard for Pepin, she’d linger at the top of the stairs, reminding herself of his nature, his temper, his violence. She wondered if Pepin knew she stood there, watching. She wondered if he showed her on purpose, as if it was something he thought she needed to see, if he was something she was willing to love.
And each time it mattered less and less to her. She stopped focussing on the victim and started focussing on his triumph. The way the light illuminated his scarred face, his blue eyes, the victim’s blood on his lips.
The basement was finished now. Carpet and bookcases. There was a loveseat down there as well, and Pepin did his business elsewhere.
Angie didn’t like it down there. It was cold, and she wondered what was hiding beneath the carpet, what rotted under the floorboards and in the concrete.
But she had to remember Pepin without that violence, or she would become too emotionally invested in this man – this stranger. Maybe that was his intention. Maybe he wanted her to jump out of her chair and defend him – this stranger.
The man was back looking out the window. Plotting maybe. But here she was, tied to a chair as bait. Anyone Pepin tied to a chair wouldn’t be getting out of it. Unless it was some sort of sex play, then Angie would get out of it eventually. She smiled to herself, but it faded quickly as she considered the contrast. It was not something she wanted to consider.
“Where is he?” the man asked.
The sun completely hid, and the stars began illuminating the holes in blanket of the night sky.
“He only does business at night,” Angie said.
“You know why I picked you?” the man asked quickly, keeping his eyes locked out the window.
Angie shook her head, but realized he couldn’t see it. “No,” she said.
“I knew you were one person he’d collect personally,” the man said. “If I kidnapped someone else, he might just send some drone after me. But you, with you he’d want to see the man’s face directly. He’d want to personally show him why no one kidnaps you.”
Angie didn’t bother mentioning that everyone kidnapped her, but no one really lived to tell the tale. Perhaps that’s why everyone thought she was an easy target everyone overlooked.
There was a crunch on the gravel. Angie could see Pepin’s pale face in the moonlight. The man cocked his gun, and Pepin just stared, as if he only saw Angie through the window.
He was having a business meeting, except it wasn’t exactly a business meeting. It was in the basement of the house.[2] She couldn’t exactly waltz into the basement and ask what was happening, so she leaned through the doorway, catching an illuminated body. The hanging lamp swung back and forth, but she saw enough.
He was tied to a chair, like she was now. But she saw a glistening red liquid on the ground. He bled across the unfinished basement floor. She heard voices, but she couldn’t make out the conversation. There were words exchanged, but she heard the man screaming. She saw Pepin’s form lean over him, drinking the fresh blood, not the mess on the floor.
That only made the man scream more. He asked what kind of monster Pepin was, and Angie found herself wondered too. What kind of man could be so kind to her and so violent and horrific to others? She worried, wondering when she’d see that side of him directed at her. He begged Pepin he’d tell him everything he knew, but even Angie knew it was too late. He’d already seen Pepin for what he was, and that meant he couldn’t live any longer.
It wasn’t the only thing she witnesses. Whenever she found herself falling too hard for Pepin, she’d linger at the top of the stairs, reminding herself of his nature, his temper, his violence. She wondered if Pepin knew she stood there, watching. She wondered if he showed her on purpose, as if it was something he thought she needed to see, if he was something she was willing to love.
And each time it mattered less and less to her. She stopped focussing on the victim and started focussing on his triumph. The way the light illuminated his scarred face, his blue eyes, the victim’s blood on his lips.
The basement was finished now. Carpet and bookcases. There was a loveseat down there as well, and Pepin did his business elsewhere.
Angie didn’t like it down there. It was cold, and she wondered what was hiding beneath the carpet, what rotted under the floorboards and in the concrete.
But she had to remember Pepin without that violence, or she would become too emotionally invested in this man – this stranger. Maybe that was his intention. Maybe he wanted her to jump out of her chair and defend him – this stranger.
The man was back looking out the window. Plotting maybe. But here she was, tied to a chair as bait. Anyone Pepin tied to a chair wouldn’t be getting out of it. Unless it was some sort of sex play, then Angie would get out of it eventually. She smiled to herself, but it faded quickly as she considered the contrast. It was not something she wanted to consider.
“Where is he?” the man asked.
The sun completely hid, and the stars began illuminating the holes in blanket of the night sky.
“He only does business at night,” Angie said.
“You know why I picked you?” the man asked quickly, keeping his eyes locked out the window.
Angie shook her head, but realized he couldn’t see it. “No,” she said.
“I knew you were one person he’d collect personally,” the man said. “If I kidnapped someone else, he might just send some drone after me. But you, with you he’d want to see the man’s face directly. He’d want to personally show him why no one kidnaps you.”
Angie didn’t bother mentioning that everyone kidnapped her, but no one really lived to tell the tale. Perhaps that’s why everyone thought she was an easy target everyone overlooked.
There was a crunch on the gravel. Angie could see Pepin’s pale face in the moonlight. The man cocked his gun, and Pepin just stared, as if he only saw Angie through the window.
She wanted to tell him to run, both of them, the man and Pepin. She wanted each of them to forget the other existed. But she didn’t. She stayed staring at Pepin. He looked relived to see her.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Ara Flatermor: Day Five
And Angie was back there for a moment, sitting in the shade with her husband. He leaned over, blocking the sunlight with his head, and lightly kissed her. They weren’t worried about the other people around them. It felt like they were alone, it felt like they were the center of a romance novel. Other people were just there for decoration. They moved the plot forward.
And, for once, his lips were warm. She tasted the tart wine on his tongue.
“I saw his corpse,” the man said, interrupting.
“Whose corpse?” Angie asked. She wasn’t impressed the man interrupted her.
“My brother’s,” he said, staring hard out the window.
Angie wanted to ask what happened, but she knew. It’d be silly to ask. Her husband tore out his throat or peeled off his face or chopped off his fingertips, anything for him to suck on while still leaving the corpse unidentifiable. She understood that. It was part of his job.
“You could barely even tell it was him,” he said. “His simple was completely torn off his face. And his neck, my God, his neck looked like a wolf gorged on him. And do you know what my brother did? Do you know what my brother did to tick off your husband?”
Angie shrugged. He could have simply crossed Pepin on a bad day. She didn’t keep track of all the things that pissed him off. She just knew to be extra cautious if his eyes were particularly narrowed or if he walked particularly straight.
“My brother started a competing bootleg beer gambling house,” the man said. “Hell, he would have handed over half his profits just to stay in business. The man liked to drink, and he knew a lot of people that did, so they started their own access to it. It was a hard enough job as it was without having to worry about your husband on their scent.”
“Guys went missing first, the guys that were supposed to be bringing it from Canada. We never found any of them,” he explained. “Hell, if they looked like my brother, we wouldn’t have been able to recognize them. The only way I recognized my brother is by the tattoo on his stomach.”
The man turned and lifted his shirt. She saw a Knotwork Triquetra.
“There were three of us,” he said, putting down his shirt. “My other brother died during a bar fight. There were five years of just the two of us. Then this horror happens to my brother.” He turned back to the window. “And now there’s just me. Three acting as one, unending love, it’s all bullshit now. When love ends, that’s when hate comes. Hate only needs one.”
Angie swallowed. She was scared for this man, and she had to admit she was a little scared for herself. If this man was so full of hate, what would stop him from hurting her to get to Pepin? She could fight back, surely, but she was bound to a chair. There wasn’t much she could do to put up a fight.
She let the courage build up in her, and then she asked, “What are you going to do with me?”
He laughed. “You’re going to sit in that chair and draw him out,” he replied. “I don’t have any intention of hurting you. I don’t hurt women, or children for that matter. I’m not a monster.”
He didn’t have to say ‘like Pepin,’ she understood what he was getting at. Angie had seen him attack women before. She saw him send away his own daughter.
“Besides, I don’t want to fill him full of rage,” the man continued. “He may act stupid then, but he’d be hard to drag down. I’ve seen men take bullets and keep running when they’re full of that kind of hate.”
Angie wondered if that was the man’s plan. What he going to go down full of rage, being too angry to feel any pain. She imagined he’d be pretty numb by now.
“Do you have a family?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m rather close to a prostitute though. She works for me at the club, well before your husband burnt it down, but now she works exclusively for me, if you get my drift.”
Angie couldn’t hold back the smile. “Yeah, I understand,” she said.
“I’ll miss her,” he said. “But at least I didn’t have any children. I’d hate for my son to want to avenge me. There’s no point in living a life like that.”
She nodded in response, checking out her shoes. Her ankles were looking a little raw, but her shoes still looked fantastic. She was rather fond of them. It was hard sometimes, thinking of her great shoes, and realizing where the money came from. It came from the death of men like these. She was just glad her own children wouldn’t have to worry about vengeance. Her and Pepin could take care of themselves. Or, at least, Pepin could take care of her before her children would need to.
She tried to go back to the park memory, but it wasn’t there anymore. She could only see the memories of the beginning of their relationship, when he hadn’t managed to suppress his temper in front of her. Her mind was flooded with her first-hand experiences of his temper, the temper this man knew too well.
And, for once, his lips were warm. She tasted the tart wine on his tongue.
“I saw his corpse,” the man said, interrupting.
“Whose corpse?” Angie asked. She wasn’t impressed the man interrupted her.
“My brother’s,” he said, staring hard out the window.
Angie wanted to ask what happened, but she knew. It’d be silly to ask. Her husband tore out his throat or peeled off his face or chopped off his fingertips, anything for him to suck on while still leaving the corpse unidentifiable. She understood that. It was part of his job.
“You could barely even tell it was him,” he said. “His simple was completely torn off his face. And his neck, my God, his neck looked like a wolf gorged on him. And do you know what my brother did? Do you know what my brother did to tick off your husband?”
Angie shrugged. He could have simply crossed Pepin on a bad day. She didn’t keep track of all the things that pissed him off. She just knew to be extra cautious if his eyes were particularly narrowed or if he walked particularly straight.
“My brother started a competing bootleg beer gambling house,” the man said. “Hell, he would have handed over half his profits just to stay in business. The man liked to drink, and he knew a lot of people that did, so they started their own access to it. It was a hard enough job as it was without having to worry about your husband on their scent.”
“Guys went missing first, the guys that were supposed to be bringing it from Canada. We never found any of them,” he explained. “Hell, if they looked like my brother, we wouldn’t have been able to recognize them. The only way I recognized my brother is by the tattoo on his stomach.”
The man turned and lifted his shirt. She saw a Knotwork Triquetra.
“There were three of us,” he said, putting down his shirt. “My other brother died during a bar fight. There were five years of just the two of us. Then this horror happens to my brother.” He turned back to the window. “And now there’s just me. Three acting as one, unending love, it’s all bullshit now. When love ends, that’s when hate comes. Hate only needs one.”
Angie swallowed. She was scared for this man, and she had to admit she was a little scared for herself. If this man was so full of hate, what would stop him from hurting her to get to Pepin? She could fight back, surely, but she was bound to a chair. There wasn’t much she could do to put up a fight.
She let the courage build up in her, and then she asked, “What are you going to do with me?”
He laughed. “You’re going to sit in that chair and draw him out,” he replied. “I don’t have any intention of hurting you. I don’t hurt women, or children for that matter. I’m not a monster.”
He didn’t have to say ‘like Pepin,’ she understood what he was getting at. Angie had seen him attack women before. She saw him send away his own daughter.
“Besides, I don’t want to fill him full of rage,” the man continued. “He may act stupid then, but he’d be hard to drag down. I’ve seen men take bullets and keep running when they’re full of that kind of hate.”
Angie wondered if that was the man’s plan. What he going to go down full of rage, being too angry to feel any pain. She imagined he’d be pretty numb by now.
“Do you have a family?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m rather close to a prostitute though. She works for me at the club, well before your husband burnt it down, but now she works exclusively for me, if you get my drift.”
Angie couldn’t hold back the smile. “Yeah, I understand,” she said.
“I’ll miss her,” he said. “But at least I didn’t have any children. I’d hate for my son to want to avenge me. There’s no point in living a life like that.”
She nodded in response, checking out her shoes. Her ankles were looking a little raw, but her shoes still looked fantastic. She was rather fond of them. It was hard sometimes, thinking of her great shoes, and realizing where the money came from. It came from the death of men like these. She was just glad her own children wouldn’t have to worry about vengeance. Her and Pepin could take care of themselves. Or, at least, Pepin could take care of her before her children would need to.
She tried to go back to the park memory, but it wasn’t there anymore. She could only see the memories of the beginning of their relationship, when he hadn’t managed to suppress his temper in front of her. Her mind was flooded with her first-hand experiences of his temper, the temper this man knew too well.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Ara Flatermor: Day Four
“Someone will be dead,” he replied.
Angie tried to judge if the man was willing to die for his vague cause. She knew he would, she just wondered if he’d go down fighting or if Pepin would kill him while he was running.
She tried to manoeuvre herself to make her more comfortable, but her ankles and wrists being bound certainly didn’t help matters any. “I suppose you want me to loosen your ropes so you can escape and punch me?” the man said, keeping his eyes out the window.
“I have a cramp in my back,” she replied, “but no I was just trying to sit more comfortably. If you’re offering to make me more comfortable, without the punch though, I have a romance novel in my purse that I’d like to read.”
The man scoffed. “Those rot your brain.”
“That’s what my husband thinks,” Angie said, smiling.
Well, he still thought it even though she saw him sneaking them himself. They’d curl up together in bed and would read novels, and he’d slowly get closer to her to read over her shoulder. But it was usually during a steamy scene and the fiction in the novel would soon turn into their reality. It certainly wasn’t anything to complain about.
She decided not to tell this man the short anecdote, but it was possible that he would have been interested. When she was kidnapped, kidnappers tended to have a one-track mind. Money. Money and fear. But this one, this one had something else. He already said he didn’t care about money, but maybe it was revenge. She wondered if Pepin actually had a fight ahead of him. Maybe this man had done his research.
Maybe he knew too much.
He couldn’t be one himself, staring into the sunset like that, walking around in broad daylight.
Angie remembered how once Pepin saw the sun through her, they couldn’t get enough of it. He never went out alone, unless he had too. He still preferred doing business at night, sleeping away most of the day when he needed it, but they liked each other’s company in the sunlight.
Angie would spend the day preparing a picnic feast, food that wouldn’t go bad in the heat or direct sunlight. It was that Pepin needed to eat, but eating certainly helped. He would appreciate the taste. She debated putting some of her blood in a thermos as a joke, but decided against it. She didn’t want to walk around with a cut on her arm. So she settled for red wine.
And once she finished she’d lean on the door to his office and waved the basket in the doorway hand. And he’d sigh and stand up, and he’d hold her free hand. They’d walk together to the park, talking and laughing as if they were still learning about each other and yet still completely comfortable with each other.
She’d wrap her arm around his, feeling the sun’s penetration of his cold body.
And yet they’d still pick a shady spot. Angie never found Pepin to be a paranoid man, and even when he picked the shade she didn’t get the sense that it was out of fear, but she worried he hid his discomfort.
“Aren’t you listening?”
The man interrupted her fantasy.
“I’m sorry?” Angie asked.
The man sighed and walked away from the window, stepping closer to her. She felt anxious, not because of his proximity, but because he abandoned his position. She surprised herself by being worried about him. She didn’t want him to win, but she didn’t want him to be massacred with his back turned. Especially not because of her fault.
“I said I can get you a ladies’ magazine if you’d like,” the man said. “I have some lying around.”
“It’s fine,” Angie said. She didn’t want him going too far. She didn’t want to be the reason for his downfall. She wanted it all to be his own. “I have my own romance in my head.”
“Your husband I suppose,” the man said.
Angie tried to judge if the man was willing to die for his vague cause. She knew he would, she just wondered if he’d go down fighting or if Pepin would kill him while he was running.
She tried to manoeuvre herself to make her more comfortable, but her ankles and wrists being bound certainly didn’t help matters any. “I suppose you want me to loosen your ropes so you can escape and punch me?” the man said, keeping his eyes out the window.
“I have a cramp in my back,” she replied, “but no I was just trying to sit more comfortably. If you’re offering to make me more comfortable, without the punch though, I have a romance novel in my purse that I’d like to read.”
The man scoffed. “Those rot your brain.”
“That’s what my husband thinks,” Angie said, smiling.
Well, he still thought it even though she saw him sneaking them himself. They’d curl up together in bed and would read novels, and he’d slowly get closer to her to read over her shoulder. But it was usually during a steamy scene and the fiction in the novel would soon turn into their reality. It certainly wasn’t anything to complain about.
She decided not to tell this man the short anecdote, but it was possible that he would have been interested. When she was kidnapped, kidnappers tended to have a one-track mind. Money. Money and fear. But this one, this one had something else. He already said he didn’t care about money, but maybe it was revenge. She wondered if Pepin actually had a fight ahead of him. Maybe this man had done his research.
Maybe he knew too much.
He couldn’t be one himself, staring into the sunset like that, walking around in broad daylight.
Angie remembered how once Pepin saw the sun through her, they couldn’t get enough of it. He never went out alone, unless he had too. He still preferred doing business at night, sleeping away most of the day when he needed it, but they liked each other’s company in the sunlight.
Angie would spend the day preparing a picnic feast, food that wouldn’t go bad in the heat or direct sunlight. It was that Pepin needed to eat, but eating certainly helped. He would appreciate the taste. She debated putting some of her blood in a thermos as a joke, but decided against it. She didn’t want to walk around with a cut on her arm. So she settled for red wine.
And once she finished she’d lean on the door to his office and waved the basket in the doorway hand. And he’d sigh and stand up, and he’d hold her free hand. They’d walk together to the park, talking and laughing as if they were still learning about each other and yet still completely comfortable with each other.
She’d wrap her arm around his, feeling the sun’s penetration of his cold body.
And yet they’d still pick a shady spot. Angie never found Pepin to be a paranoid man, and even when he picked the shade she didn’t get the sense that it was out of fear, but she worried he hid his discomfort.
“Aren’t you listening?”
The man interrupted her fantasy.
“I’m sorry?” Angie asked.
The man sighed and walked away from the window, stepping closer to her. She felt anxious, not because of his proximity, but because he abandoned his position. She surprised herself by being worried about him. She didn’t want him to win, but she didn’t want him to be massacred with his back turned. Especially not because of her fault.
“I said I can get you a ladies’ magazine if you’d like,” the man said. “I have some lying around.”
“It’s fine,” Angie said. She didn’t want him going too far. She didn’t want to be the reason for his downfall. She wanted it all to be his own. “I have my own romance in my head.”
“Your husband I suppose,” the man said.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Ara Flatermor: Day Three
“The sunrise,” she said.
“You want to watch it with me?” he asked.
“Well, I thought since we know you’ll survive in the sun, it’d be–” she fluffed his hair in her hands, “romantic or something.”
“The part of me that wants to read romance novels approves of this idea,” Pepin said.
“And the other part of you?”
“The other part of me just wants to be with you,” Pepin said, kissing the underside of her neck. “Sunrise or sunset.”
Angie laughed. “That’s the romance novels talking, isn’t it?”
“Nope, that’s all me,” Pepin said, “though I don’t suppose there’s much difference now. I’d hate to ask you to stand up, but I’m afraid you’ll have to.”
Angie wiggled against him, before standing up. She adjusted her skirt, asking “Why?”
“Because I like you being in my lap,” Pepin said, a smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth.
“No I meant, why did you–”
“I know what you meant,” Pepin said, standing up and stretching. He didn’t hear any bones moan in response. “I thought we could move the loveseat next to the window, that way we can curl up and watch it together.”
Angie smiled in return. “I’ll help you move it.”
The each took one end of the blue paisley loveseat and, though Angie was sure her end was far too light, they carried to the window. Angie waited for Pepin to sit down so she could stretch out across his lap. The night sky was already being infused with a deep purple, and Angie cupped her hands on Pepin’s face, her thumbs outlining his wrinkles affectionately. They were supposed to be watching the sunrise, but they couldn’t stop watching each other.
Fear shot through Angie like as if she jumped into ice water. What if they were wrong? What if Pepin starting burning against her fingers? He’d scream and run out of the room, she supposed. He would make it. She’s certain he’s survived worse scenarios.
She watched Pepin then like she watched her current kidnapper now, both peeking out the window at possible death. But Pepin’s face showed only love for her, no fear nor confidence. He just watched the sun illuminate her brown curls, he just watched her in a new light.
She didn’t know how to interpret the kidnappers face. Sure, there was fear there, but there was something else, revenge maybe. She briefly wondered where his brother was, pushing away her memory of her and Pepin making love in the warmth of the sun.
“What do you plan to gain from this?” Angie snapped, feeling the ropes tighten around her wrists as Pepin’s anger rose inside of her. “Do you really think he’ll hand over the money? And what then? A lifetime of looking over your shoulder?”
“You really think this is about money,” the man said. Angie heard a new confidence in his voice. “When this is over, I won’t be looking over my shoulder.”
Angie suppressed the anger. Calmly, she said, “That’s because you’ll be dead.”
“You want to watch it with me?” he asked.
“Well, I thought since we know you’ll survive in the sun, it’d be–” she fluffed his hair in her hands, “romantic or something.”
“The part of me that wants to read romance novels approves of this idea,” Pepin said.
“And the other part of you?”
“The other part of me just wants to be with you,” Pepin said, kissing the underside of her neck. “Sunrise or sunset.”
Angie laughed. “That’s the romance novels talking, isn’t it?”
“Nope, that’s all me,” Pepin said, “though I don’t suppose there’s much difference now. I’d hate to ask you to stand up, but I’m afraid you’ll have to.”
Angie wiggled against him, before standing up. She adjusted her skirt, asking “Why?”
“Because I like you being in my lap,” Pepin said, a smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth.
“No I meant, why did you–”
“I know what you meant,” Pepin said, standing up and stretching. He didn’t hear any bones moan in response. “I thought we could move the loveseat next to the window, that way we can curl up and watch it together.”
Angie smiled in return. “I’ll help you move it.”
The each took one end of the blue paisley loveseat and, though Angie was sure her end was far too light, they carried to the window. Angie waited for Pepin to sit down so she could stretch out across his lap. The night sky was already being infused with a deep purple, and Angie cupped her hands on Pepin’s face, her thumbs outlining his wrinkles affectionately. They were supposed to be watching the sunrise, but they couldn’t stop watching each other.
Fear shot through Angie like as if she jumped into ice water. What if they were wrong? What if Pepin starting burning against her fingers? He’d scream and run out of the room, she supposed. He would make it. She’s certain he’s survived worse scenarios.
She watched Pepin then like she watched her current kidnapper now, both peeking out the window at possible death. But Pepin’s face showed only love for her, no fear nor confidence. He just watched the sun illuminate her brown curls, he just watched her in a new light.
She didn’t know how to interpret the kidnappers face. Sure, there was fear there, but there was something else, revenge maybe. She briefly wondered where his brother was, pushing away her memory of her and Pepin making love in the warmth of the sun.
“What do you plan to gain from this?” Angie snapped, feeling the ropes tighten around her wrists as Pepin’s anger rose inside of her. “Do you really think he’ll hand over the money? And what then? A lifetime of looking over your shoulder?”
“You really think this is about money,” the man said. Angie heard a new confidence in his voice. “When this is over, I won’t be looking over my shoulder.”
Angie suppressed the anger. Calmly, she said, “That’s because you’ll be dead.”
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Ara Flatermor: Day Two
Angie didn’t think he looked like a man that had it all figured out. Pepin was a man who had it all figured out. At least, Pepin certainly lived long enough to have it all figured out. He knew the world was corrupt, and he chose a career that embraced that corruption. Angie respected that. There was no point in hiding behind false images.
Except he couldn’t let everyone know he was a vampire.[1]
“You think you’ve got it all figured out?” she asked.
The man nodded, keeping his eyes out the window. The sun was setting, and Angie could see the sun bleeding into the blue sky.
“I just said that, didn’t I?” he replied, muttering something about women being useless morons.
“So what do you do when you shoot my husband and he keeps coming at you?” she snarled.
“I shoot him again.”
“And when he keeps coming?”
“I shoot him until he stops,” he said.
“Or until you run out of bullets,” Angie reasoned.
“I have more in my pockets,” he replied. “I’ll see him coming, I’ll have time to reload before he even gets to my front porch. ‘Sides, I’ll have enough in him by then. The man’s gotta stop running sometime.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
The man laughed. “I’ll make sure he does,” he said.
She blew her brown hair out of her eyes again, scanning out the window again. Daylight was fading, but he could have come in daylight if he wanted to. She wondered if he ever felt the sun brush against his skin, without roasting him, before her. Angie wondered why she had never thought of asking before.
Well, it was silly to ask. He was born a vampire.
She remembered the first time their first sunrise. Generally, they spent most of their time being nocturnal. Pepin did business at night, they made love at night, they read at night, and they ate at night. She didn’t miss the sun at first. It was a good transition.
Angie liked the moon peeking in through their windows, watching them. The moon was like an old friend, whereas the sun was more like an old instructor. The moon always curious about what you’re doing next, the sun always beating down on you, wanting you to squeeze more into your day, peering over the hills to make sure you keep working after it’s long gone.
Pepin had just performed the procedure to share their soul.[2] Then he hobbled back to his study to get some work done. It was understandable, now he had forever with Angie, but work couldn’t wait forever. She wasn’t desperate for his attention. She was happy curling up with a romance novel, listening to the noises of Lilith and Vesper wandering on the floors below.
But she kept checking her watch. She had to be with Pepin for his first sunrise, or their first sunrise together. She wondered what it’d look like, all those colours painting over the night sky, through Pepin’s gorgeous plate-glass windows. So when the sun was close to rising, she wandered on up to his study, trying to be light on her feet.
She saw him, his pale blue eyes scanning whatever document was on his desk. A few strands of his blonde hair were out of place, hanging carefully across his forehead. She approached on her tip toes, her bare feet feeling every groove in the hardwood floors. She saw his shoulders tighten as he heard her (though she blamed the old floorboards), but he didn’t give her away.
He played along.
Knowing her cover was broken, Angie skulked behind him, slowly running her hands down his chest, nibbling on his earlobe. “Are you trying to seduce me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, kissing the sweet place where his neck met his chin. “Is it working?”
“No,” he said, tapping his pen on his desk.
She straddled him, moving between him and his desk. Angie kissed him, her hands cupping his face. She pressed her tongue between his lips, flicking it against the back of his fangs. She ran her tongue against his until it warmed and responded against hers.
She pulled away, smiling proudly. “What about now?”
“It might be working,” he replied. “You better try again, just to see.”
She felt his hands on her back, pushing her closer against him. She felt the ice cold of his form through her clothes and his, her nipples responding in the normal, sensitive way. He kissed her again, twisting his fingers into her curls, keeping their faces connected. She grinded up against him, her skirt bunching up between them. [3]
[3] Be sure to let me know if I crossed any lines in this scene. I can tone it down
Except he couldn’t let everyone know he was a vampire.[1]
“You think you’ve got it all figured out?” she asked.
The man nodded, keeping his eyes out the window. The sun was setting, and Angie could see the sun bleeding into the blue sky.
“I just said that, didn’t I?” he replied, muttering something about women being useless morons.
“So what do you do when you shoot my husband and he keeps coming at you?” she snarled.
“I shoot him again.”
“And when he keeps coming?”
“I shoot him until he stops,” he said.
“Or until you run out of bullets,” Angie reasoned.
“I have more in my pockets,” he replied. “I’ll see him coming, I’ll have time to reload before he even gets to my front porch. ‘Sides, I’ll have enough in him by then. The man’s gotta stop running sometime.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
The man laughed. “I’ll make sure he does,” he said.
She blew her brown hair out of her eyes again, scanning out the window again. Daylight was fading, but he could have come in daylight if he wanted to. She wondered if he ever felt the sun brush against his skin, without roasting him, before her. Angie wondered why she had never thought of asking before.
Well, it was silly to ask. He was born a vampire.
She remembered the first time their first sunrise. Generally, they spent most of their time being nocturnal. Pepin did business at night, they made love at night, they read at night, and they ate at night. She didn’t miss the sun at first. It was a good transition.
Angie liked the moon peeking in through their windows, watching them. The moon was like an old friend, whereas the sun was more like an old instructor. The moon always curious about what you’re doing next, the sun always beating down on you, wanting you to squeeze more into your day, peering over the hills to make sure you keep working after it’s long gone.
Pepin had just performed the procedure to share their soul.[2] Then he hobbled back to his study to get some work done. It was understandable, now he had forever with Angie, but work couldn’t wait forever. She wasn’t desperate for his attention. She was happy curling up with a romance novel, listening to the noises of Lilith and Vesper wandering on the floors below.
But she kept checking her watch. She had to be with Pepin for his first sunrise, or their first sunrise together. She wondered what it’d look like, all those colours painting over the night sky, through Pepin’s gorgeous plate-glass windows. So when the sun was close to rising, she wandered on up to his study, trying to be light on her feet.
She saw him, his pale blue eyes scanning whatever document was on his desk. A few strands of his blonde hair were out of place, hanging carefully across his forehead. She approached on her tip toes, her bare feet feeling every groove in the hardwood floors. She saw his shoulders tighten as he heard her (though she blamed the old floorboards), but he didn’t give her away.
He played along.
Knowing her cover was broken, Angie skulked behind him, slowly running her hands down his chest, nibbling on his earlobe. “Are you trying to seduce me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, kissing the sweet place where his neck met his chin. “Is it working?”
“No,” he said, tapping his pen on his desk.
She straddled him, moving between him and his desk. Angie kissed him, her hands cupping his face. She pressed her tongue between his lips, flicking it against the back of his fangs. She ran her tongue against his until it warmed and responded against hers.
She pulled away, smiling proudly. “What about now?”
“It might be working,” he replied. “You better try again, just to see.”
She felt his hands on her back, pushing her closer against him. She felt the ice cold of his form through her clothes and his, her nipples responding in the normal, sensitive way. He kissed her again, twisting his fingers into her curls, keeping their faces connected. She grinded up against him, her skirt bunching up between them. [3]
Angie playfully bit down on his lip as she ended the kiss. Pepin nuzzled her, his hands roaming down across the rest of her curvy form. “You must be here for a reason, meine Liebe.”
Monday, October 11, 2010
Ara Flatermor: Day One
“You’re in over your head.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I know,” the man said, peeking out his window. “I’ve heard this all before.”
“You seriously do not know what you’re doing.”
Angie sat in a chair, watching the man. It wasn’t by choice, though she could have stared at the (rather filthy) floor instead, but being tied to a chair certainly limits your possibilities for visual entertainment. She had struggled for a while trying to get the ropes undone, but she only achieved what she suspected to me an itchy rash. The man seemed a competent enough knot tier.
“Lady,” the man said, “I’ve heard it all before.”
The man stood with a shotgun, peeking out the window, raising the shotgun to peek out with him. He’d glance back at Angie from time to time as if he expected her just to escape.
This wasn’t the first time Angie had been kidnapped, and it likely wouldn’t be her last. She just wished they’d let her read the romance novel [1] she carried with her in her purse, or if they’d serve some nice food. She was getting hungry.
Angie was grocery shopping when she saw the man do a double-take as she walked by. She thought it was because she was wearing a new top that made her chest look particularly glorious, but it turned out he recognized her as Pepin’s wife. It wasn’t easy being the wife of Chicago’s mob boss, but it was generally quite comfortable, when her grocery shopping wasn’t being interrupted anyway.
A fraction of her actually felt sorry for the man, completely unaware of his situation. She remembered when Pepin sent his daughter, Vanessa, away.
It was late at night. Dracula couldn’t be in the sunlight, of course. They loaded her bolted coffin into a boat. At that time, Angie felt nothing but relief, the end of a part of her life. She wouldn’t have to work for anyone anymore. She felt Pepin’s heavy shoulder drape across her shoulders as Dracula’s boat headed towards the moon. And she felt safe.
But then she’d have nightmares about that moment, that she’d be the one being dragged away on the boat. It was as if she saw her own future. She’d wake up beside Pepin’s cold body and feel the fear shoot through her. Their souls were joined. He wouldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t send her away. And Angie wouldn’t get power hungry like Vanessa did. She’d remind herself it couldn’t be her future, as she curled up against Pepin, wrapping her warm form against his cold one.
But she had seen how short his temper was. He was trying to cool it down for her, but she still thought about it sometimes. Especially in times like these. What if she did something so wrong to stir up that anger again? Would she be missing her face?
“My husband is going to tear you limb from limb,” she said to the man.
“Lady,” he said. “My brother died in cement shoes. I know what fucking with the mob does to a man. But I’ve got it all figured out.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I know,” the man said, peeking out his window. “I’ve heard this all before.”
“You seriously do not know what you’re doing.”
Angie sat in a chair, watching the man. It wasn’t by choice, though she could have stared at the (rather filthy) floor instead, but being tied to a chair certainly limits your possibilities for visual entertainment. She had struggled for a while trying to get the ropes undone, but she only achieved what she suspected to me an itchy rash. The man seemed a competent enough knot tier.
“Lady,” the man said, “I’ve heard it all before.”
The man stood with a shotgun, peeking out the window, raising the shotgun to peek out with him. He’d glance back at Angie from time to time as if he expected her just to escape.
This wasn’t the first time Angie had been kidnapped, and it likely wouldn’t be her last. She just wished they’d let her read the romance novel [1] she carried with her in her purse, or if they’d serve some nice food. She was getting hungry.
Angie was grocery shopping when she saw the man do a double-take as she walked by. She thought it was because she was wearing a new top that made her chest look particularly glorious, but it turned out he recognized her as Pepin’s wife. It wasn’t easy being the wife of Chicago’s mob boss, but it was generally quite comfortable, when her grocery shopping wasn’t being interrupted anyway.
A fraction of her actually felt sorry for the man, completely unaware of his situation. She remembered when Pepin sent his daughter, Vanessa, away.
It was late at night. Dracula couldn’t be in the sunlight, of course. They loaded her bolted coffin into a boat. At that time, Angie felt nothing but relief, the end of a part of her life. She wouldn’t have to work for anyone anymore. She felt Pepin’s heavy shoulder drape across her shoulders as Dracula’s boat headed towards the moon. And she felt safe.
But then she’d have nightmares about that moment, that she’d be the one being dragged away on the boat. It was as if she saw her own future. She’d wake up beside Pepin’s cold body and feel the fear shoot through her. Their souls were joined. He wouldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t send her away. And Angie wouldn’t get power hungry like Vanessa did. She’d remind herself it couldn’t be her future, as she curled up against Pepin, wrapping her warm form against his cold one.
But she had seen how short his temper was. He was trying to cool it down for her, but she still thought about it sometimes. Especially in times like these. What if she did something so wrong to stir up that anger again? Would she be missing her face?
“My husband is going to tear you limb from limb,” she said to the man.
“Lady,” he said. “My brother died in cement shoes. I know what fucking with the mob does to a man. But I’ve got it all figured out.”
[1] Is there a certain type of novel she’d be reading?
Let me know if there are any changes to be made already.
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