Begin again

Peter had been walking back to his hotel. Mia would be waiting.  They would shower, have dinner, see a show, and begin again.  He had promised her a loving, more attentive change and though she had seemed reluctant at first, they were making headway; slowly.  He was excited and happy for summer and spending it with Mia.  He loved her.  Enraptured by the ocean view, the people rushing by smelling of powdered sugar, malt vinegar and sunscreen, he almost missed the opportunity to be a good Samaritan.  He should have.


  The tourista's  thick dark hair was as shiny as the grease settling on the slices cooling under the red heat lamps.  His pink and and purple stripped shirt draped over his khaki palm frond covered Bermudas.  The man intending to buy pizza, crossed  the boardwalk, pausing briefly to study a dozing homeless man by the trashcans. He kicked at him with disdain and commented to no one in particular


"Garbage you are, mah man." and continued on to the pizza kiosk.


He pulled a bulging money clip from his pocket and slicked his hair back, grinning too widely at the clerk


"Accept 100's?"


"No. See the sign?"


"Oh yeah. Right, right." he almost snorted. He looked up again.


"Fifties?"


The clerk rolled his eyes. "Tens, fives and ones are better."


"Sure." the man glancing side to side.


"Four fifty."


The man slid a fifty across the counter and began to beat a rhythm on the counter with his manicured, lightly glossed fingertips.


"Dude. Really?" the clerk gawked. Sighing heavily, he counted out the change and pushed it back.


The man raised his hands, raking the bills like he'd just won a game of craps.  He stuffed his wallet and turned his attention to his floppy Sicilian, tearing at it hungrily.  It only took three steps for the money to break free from the ugly shorts, plunking to the ground.


The bum started at the noise, zeroing in on the wad of cash waving from the boards. Almost immediately, he wiped his crusted face as if salivating, raised up and began to hunch-crawl quickly toward it.  Peter saw him and began to race the homeless man.


Peter scooped it up, proudly holding the bills high above his head, calling after the tourista


"Oh Geez! Hey Buddy!  Sir? SIR?"


The bum stood tall, removing from his stained grimy sweatshirt a gun and a badge beginning to scream as he raced along the boards.


"Police! Freeze"


Peter smiled and began to speak. "Oh great..."


"SHUT IT!" the dirty man growled snapping the wallet.


The tourista came back grinning thickly


"Wha? Wait.. I want to return his wall..."


"I said SHUT it!" growled the grubby man.


Tourista stepped in to Peter's personal space. "Nobody near me but you. Hmmm.. Just you. Bad news for you Buddy." .  He thumped Pete's forehead with the wallet and burped in the innocent man's face.  Pete winced away from the acrid garlic and tomato breeze wafting at him.  


Quickly, he was snared under the arms and maneuvered down the boards to a waiting car. People stared and pointed. Tucked in the back, all three began to drive with Peter continuing to proclaim a simple misunderstanding.


"Look. Jail is full of innocent men" Grubby said lazily


"Check the tapes from the shop owners." Peter pleaded.


The two men in the front snorted. "This ain't a A&E crime show" Tourista laughed.  Grubby drove them out of the city.  "Now shut it."


Peter felt the pang of fear boil down low in his belly.  Slowly, he pulled at the handle but it was locked with no latch.  He was trapped.  This sparked more protest.  Tourista had had enough.  Whipping around, he said in a thick sweet tone; "I'll help you understand what I mean EXACTLY Peter, when I say shut it." and connected the butt of his gun with Pete's head.  Stars were sharp and hot behind his eyes.  Then Peter was gulped by darkness. 


He woke on an old stained mattress wreaking of ammonia and mold.  His head was screaming inside his skull.


"Hello Precious." Grubby smiled.


Peter furrowed his brow and studied his new accommodations.  "What's going on?"


Grubby cut some pepperoni with a knife and ate it.  His lips were shiny.  "Well, Precious. You are going to have the worst last day of your life."


"Why?" Pete asked sitting up and hugging his knees.


Grubby sat and looked at Pete as if he had just sprouted wings. "You don't think I'm that dumb do you?"


"I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't understa...."


A bored sigh escaped Grubby and he stood.  "I'm not paid to help you understand Precious." He pulled his gun and leveled it at Peter's head pulling the trigger.  The vacationing man died smelling hot pennies and peppered sausage.  He was dismembered and removed from the dingy warehouse.  His disposal would take time, but they had plenty of it. 


Mia paced nervously in the lobby of the hotel.  She asked the concierge every ten or fifteen minutes if he had any messages for her.  She used her cell phone to dial countless times. Nothing. Peter had simply disappeared.  A new batch of tears smeared down her cheeks.  At last, a man in a ratty coat approached the front desk.  Mia rushed him, grabbing at his coat and spinning him. 


 "Where is he? Is he all right?" Her fingers clutched his arm tightly.  


"Perhaps we could step into another room..." he began, turning to the kid behind the counter who pointed them toward an empty conference room.  


Mia permitted herself to be shuffled off.  The man closed the door and stepped over to the tearing woman.  He pulled out a chair and motioned her to join him.  He got two pops from a table and poured them. He paced around the small dimly lit room, pausing at the window to watch people enjoying their vacations.  Returning to her, he folded his hands thoughtfully, glancing around trying to pull the words from the air. Drinking heavily from the can, he turned to her. 


"I'm afraid..." he said quietly.


Mia bowed her head.


"My brother will need five thousand more."


"I see. Why?"


"It will take longer to dispose of his body than anticipated." Grubby shrugged, cleaning darkness from under his nails and wiping it on his jeans. "So what do you think?"


"Your brother is greedy." but she leaned forward and pulled on his shaggy beard.  "But I THINK.." and she leaned in to brush her mouth lightly against his; not kissing him but feeling the shape of his mouth against hers. "I think THIS has to go. " Then she kissed him fully.  


Grubby pawed at her, hungrily tugging at her skirt. 


She giggled, pushing him away. "Not yet. We have to wait. Remember?"  


Sighing with frustration and disappointment, he swiped his mouth treasuring the taste of her kiss and smell of her near him.


"Then we can be together. " he smiled.  "Can't wait."


She winked and watched him walk away.  She looked up at the clock, and grinned to herself thinking he would be about half way home when the poison kicked in.  Then he would have a "stroke". She caught the eye of a man heading in to the bar.  She smiled demurely and waited for him to approach her. Mia was looking forward to beginning again. And again...and again...




This one took me a while to hammer out.  I twisted around too many times and got lost. Ha. Nothing new for me, as you know. ; ) I like it, but would have enjoyed it to be a little less rushed and developing more for the characters; Mia especially. Regardless, I hope you liked it. I'm glad you stopped by.  Enjoy the beginning of your week because it is one step closer to its end. 

Dignity with Lance

This isn't much, but it was a moment I had to share with you.  Have your giggles primed and your pointing fingers ready.  


It was absolutely GORGEOUS  here the other day.  I mean fantastic, windows open, sun warming you, feeling good kind of day.  I coudlnt' wait to get home and take advantage of it with a bike ride.  Tally HO!  I rushed inside to strip down and change quickly to my biking gear, slapping on my helmet and shades, hurrying to pump up the tires.  This was going to be nothing short of awesome.  I was so full of excitement and anticipation,  I was giddy; breathing hard just dreaming of how far I was going to ride.  Lance? Watch it Baby.  This lil momma is comin for ya.  Off I went, gliding, SAILING around the streets, hugging the bars and reveling in the sound of my own breath; happy to feel the burn in my legs as they worked for me.  I felt fantastic.  The first couple of miles were strong and powerful.  I enjoyed working hard enough to get warm in my clothes.  As I rounded one of my longer hills, the wind showed up uninvited.  I hate that.  But I wasn't about to let that blowhard ruin my ride, so I hunkered down and pushed harder.  Then another biker showed up.  My mind raced like my tires:


"HEEEYY ! Who invited YOU into my day? No way Buddy. This road is only big enought for one of us and I vote for ME!"  Now what I envisioned was an aggressive pass where I could drive a stick into his spokes, causing him to waver gracelessly, leaving the roadway in a fiery crash.  But I just kept going.  He was a leisurely rider anyway.  No helmet. No gloves.  Just out perusing the streets.  I cranked up my engine riding up on him.  He thought I wanted to chat. ~ No way Bub.  I'm out here to rip UP this street; not trickle along at molasses pace.  Beep! Beep! Zip! Dang! and I blew by him.  


Distraction gone, I could now focus on my legs which had decided they were really tired and would rather ride around like that other guy.  My lungs were beginning to echo the same sentiments.  


"Damn you ALL! Keep riding! We don't stop when we're TIRED you sissies! We stop when we're DONE!"  I scolded and kept pushing,  pedaling and  panting.  My nose apparently felt cheated and began to run along at an alarming rate. So I sniffed. I spat.  I was rugged and fierce; certain this was MY day to be queen of the road. 


 My legs began to tremble and that once happy burn became a scorching wildfire raging through every neuron of my being.  My lungs had audibly threatened to jump out and lay on the roadside awaiting my senses which should WALK back and get them.  My back started pinching me; warning me... 


 "Don't push me much farther Little Girl. You will LOSE."  


"Bah!" I said to them all.  " I am at the half-way point and I can make it home.  You all must all come along.  We are not DONE."  The wind laughed at me in breathy gusts.  The sun shook its head and ducked behind some clouds with a  "You'll be sorry." sigh.  Shadows got longer as did my stride.  I knew I was tired but I could see it.  I was almost home.  


"Just a couple more miles guys.  Come on! Don't quit now.  We can do this. We've come so far...Just push a little..." 


Harder. Faster.  Foolish.


 I wobbled around that last curve; grinding my exhausted muscles like dry rotted rubber bands. I coasted (shamefully yes I did) down the last hill too weak to even stand up in the saddle as I crested the drive.  My fingers hungrily reached for the brakes.  It was over. I was home.  All I had to do was get off, punch in the garage code and I was free.  My body could begin to repair and weep over what had been so cruelly done to it.  I squeezed and went to lift off from the pedals . Nothing. No response.  The bike stopped as instructed.  My legs remained perched even as we all began to list to the side like a drowning cruise liner.  I had reached out, managing somehow to get the code in.  Even the door responded properly by groaning to life and raising up to swallow my tired frames both mechanical and human.  But I was not able to get off in time.  The only thing I was able to do was spin the entire front tire, lean and slide down the garage wall while stuttering "Hey! Whoa...WHOA...." as I wiped out.  My feet NOW sprang to life crunching through the open frame and sticking straight up in the air.  My arms and chest became ensnared in handlebars and gear wires.  The frame of my trusty steed bit my thighs, my shins and as for the saddle? Well, it smashed me so hard , I saw a deep purple sky flecked with brilliant white stars; a pain otherwise indescribable.   The chain and pedals snapped at my ankles as the entire machine pinned me to the ground.


"Who's the sissy NOW? Are we DONE yet?" it seemed to snarl at me.


My entire body wailed "UNCLE! YES! NEVER AGAIN!" and pulled away.  I slowly stood, brushing gravel from places I shouldn't have even considered.  At last, I looked up.  The entire neighborhood had seen me ride into my garage door.


MOTHERFIRETRUCKER!!!!


I sniffed, waved, and with as much dignity as I could muster, hobbled inside; each step feeling like hot broken glass coursed through my veins.

Lance?


The title remains yours.

And here we are.

 I hope you had a nice week. I did; for a lovely change, I did. I celebrated my birthday (the 21st anniversary of my 21st birthday...heehee vanity oh vanity!!!) on Friday   Next week, we will celebrate our anniversary in the finest style. With all this crazy partying and planning, I am running behind.  Throw in a competition deadline I almost missed and I will confess,sadly, we might be spotty on our quality time.

I am working on a pretty good suspense/mystery.  It's been too long. I know this because it is hard. But I've got the skeleton so we should be able to share it soon.

Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.  I'll see you soon.
Love,
Tess

The Smallest Fans of James Taylor

I love James Taylor.  His music is some of my all time favorite. Having actually called out sick today, I crawled my sore, complaining body back to the softest warmest bed in the world and tuned in to my Pandora, JT channel. There was peace and tranquility in my viral, cootie-filled world.

The dogs were elated to have a chaperon for their day; meaning they enjoyed my soft bed too.  The three of us snored, kicked blankets and sighed the afternoon away.  Every once in a while they would get up, stretch and sniff my box of tissues perched next to my keyboard. I faded in and out of consciousness. At last feeling a pang of hunger, I fought the army of dog paws and pillows to meander to the kitchen for an indifferent glare at the fridge's contents.  Nothing appealed to me.  I plucked one of the few remaining Clementine oranges and hobbled up the steps, returning to my sanctuary. I was exhausted and weak, wanting only to take a nap after what felt like a double workout; even my teeth hurt.

I snuggled down under the blankets, begging (in a whiny, childish voice) for the pooches to "Share dammit!", giving that preemptive sigh. "Oh yeah. this is going to be the best nap ever." and without further delay we did.

Well, I did.

I woke to the soft scent of orange.  My body wasn't ready to get up just yet, but I found myself loudly rustling in my otherwise silent, soft sheets.  I peeked.

My piglet, Winston, had pawed the orange off the table and eaten it.  He smelled fabulous and the juice from the apparently delicious fruit still dribbled from his jowls.  Birdie sat quietly next to me fascinated with the "pop-up" technology of the tissue box.  It was almost empty.  I sat and watched her pull, tug and occasionally rip and sniff the new paper as it foofed from the little box, offering up another mysterious paper. I was surrounded by citrus and softness.

And in the background my man, JT sang "You've Got a Friend."

Today? I had two and ONLY because I am as sick as one of their kind, they got off the hook.
Tomorrow's JT selection will be "Steamroller"...for those in the know, so those two better watch out! ;)

Scratchin

"Old Man" Scharnewski's house sat at the corner of Maple and Pool Avenues.  He was the most crotchety old shit in town.  No one remembered him ever being young; he was always the smelly old man in the navy blue holed up sweater that burst out on to the porch to holler at the kids passing or to the paperboys.  He was angry inside and out and wanted to be alone, save for his big nasty dog, Dewey.  Dewey was a stinking hulk of mottled sporadic fir, that limped about, with a temper rivaling only his master.  Everyone was more than willing to oblige them both, giving them wide berth.  His kids lived in town. Timothy was one of my best friends growing up and lived down the street from me.  He never even sent his dad a Christmas card. The old man's wife had jumped ship long ago.  His daughter Katrina owned a gift shop over on Lincoln, but I don't ever recall her speaking of him; good or bad. Sad in a way, but I was grateful that he wasn't my old man.  He was just a junkyard dog.

Then something strange began to happen.  This old strap began to yell at us all on his town visits as well.  Used to be that he would just snort, growl or ignore you if you passed in the street, his old dog doing the same.  But he began to stop people and hassle them, beyond the "Your son was cuttin through my yard again..." or "You kid throws newspapers worse n you! Tell him to get it on the stoop" He began to say weird stuff: "They're comin. You'll hear em before you see em but then, it'll be too late."  He'd nod slowly, knowingly.  His Doomsday predictions were tough to swallow; coming from a man with chocolate staining the corners of his mouth and remnants of his latest meal clinging to his beard while wreaking of rancid fryer grease and sweaty onions.  "The sprickets are here and they are hungry!" he'd hiss ominously and scamper off; message delivered.  

"They were Red Coats Old Man and that was a LONG time ago!" I remember calling after him.  

We had a good laugh at the codger. As mean as he was, we thought our eye rolling, hand gestures and snickering were just desserts.  We only laughed harder when Mrs. Riley, the librarian, said that he had dashed out in to the neighborhood wearing just his propers wailing  "It's over! Not ONE of you is safe!" before scrambling back inside his unkempt house.  We were all glad for her binoculars and story.  It was all over town faster than the diner's specials on that Wednesday. But then the papers began to collect on the driveway and the lawn, that was usually high became a thicket.  We feared the worst.

No one wanted to go but we couldn't call. He'd ripped his phone out eons ago. At last, we called the sheriff, Mike, because we could hear Dewey scratching to get out.  It was summer and here that means it's stinky hot.  Mike slowly approached his door half expecting him to come roaring out per usual. The rest of us looked like eight year olds, standin, half hidden behind the trees afraid to get in trouble.  Nothing.  Mike signaled us and we crept up on the forbidden porch.  The windows were filmed and filthy; the screens caked with soot and neglect. The smell of kerosene barged through the cracked panes and  made our noses itch.  Mike walked to the back and hollered for him. Nothing but Dewey to answer us, so we popped the lock and stepped in.  


I don't know why I was shocked.  He was a lonely, mean old man.  His house was the same.  The counters were littered with food and trash.  The floor was cluttered with garbage and papers.  His crazy handwritten notes were scrawled and taped on the walls, tables, everywhere containing one word; sprickets. We almost laughed; almost, but then we saw Dewey.  What was left of that old hound was a tufted heap of rotting mush by the door.  Its nails ground down to bloody nubs.  It had dug and chewed at the wall like a prison escape.  The old man was in his chair covered in angry dripping sores.  His skin was raw and appeared almost to be peeling off him; like mange.  We leaned in, but not too closely because the smell was unbelievable.  I heard someone behind me gagging and had to cover my own mouth to keep my breakfast in.  


"What a way to g..." Mike started but the old man leapt from his chair and attempted to encircle us.  We all screamed like teeny girls and cowered like lambs for slaughter.


"AHHHH COMING! SPRICKETS!" He screeched and dashed passed us out on to the lawn where he began to pull skin from his limbs like sheets of old sunburn.  We ran after him, threw a blanket around him and  carted him down to the hospital's quarantine room.


"Bites.  Venom like a spider." Said Mac quietly as we stood over the wispy dying man.  


"Took Dewey first." his small voice graveled. "I tried to tell you; save you.  Didn't you hear em? Scratchin."
as he choked these words, his spindly fingers crawled through the air up near his gaunt face.  We all leaned back and absently scratched ourselves.  Creepy old bastard.  He died later, Mac telling us the venom had paralyzed his lungs and what antidote they'd given simply wasn't enough for the massive quantities in his system. Too little too late.


The monstrous task of cleaning up his house was my gift.  As owner of BuzyBeez Exterminators, I had to go in and scrape out that shit hole of a home and let me tell you what partner, it was full to the gills.


Ants. Roaches. Silverfish. Mice. Termites. After almost twenty-five years, I don't get the willies but man oh MAN that was bad news.  I used more chemicals than DOW trying to get that place clean; z-phos, bromethalin, but just when I thought I'd done a good job, I heard scratching.  It startled me that's for sure.  It drifted up from the crawlspace so I loaded up my "gun belt", hunched over and wiggled in to meet the sprickets.  They were grey with a kind of cricket body but they had an extra set of legs in the front like a spider.  These were long and notched so that when they chose to move, they raised up on the back jumping legs and these extra stilts and ran. Quick little buggers they were and aggressive. They charged right at me grabbing at me with little pincer hands and their mandibles gnashing.  They weren't small either; almost as big long as my index finger with a head the size of a dime. I squashed one with the butt of my flashlight which only seemed to call more. The scratching noise came from a combination of clawed feet scurrying and their jaws coming together in hungry clicks. I backed out of there fast and loaded up the big gun, methyl iodide would fix this. So I pumped it in there with a vengeance, sucking deeply from my respirator. Those little monsters stood at the edge of their doomsday clouds and clacked at me.  They barked and squealed, rushing back away into the darkness.  Only when my canister was empty, did I stop.  I listened and heard nothing .Then I called Mike and told him what I'd found; what I'd done. (aside from contaminating the old man's well with my chemical frenzy)  We came to a conclusion I now wish we hadn't.


The fire department's trainees were eager to get a practice in. The old man's house was pushed to the top of the list.  We burned it down.  It smoldered for days after and the smell was suspicious, but we dismissed it to everyone as the stink of a hoarder and filthy old recluse.  After that had all been cleaned up, I went home, relieved to finally be rid of the mess formally known as "Old Man" Scharnewski.  I cracked a beer and sat down to make fun of Wheel of Fortune.  One beer became the pack and I fell asleep.  Nothing new. Things were back to normal.


Except for the scratching that woke me.

Wisest heart most broken

It happens to us all. Our hearts get broken.  There is a song "The first cut is the deepest." My daughter has just recently discovered that. And in a new sense, so am I.  I never knew the pain I could feel for that which wasn't mine.  


She came in to the room with teary eyes, drippy nose and a pinched frown. I was working on some things and looked up surprised she wasn't in bed.  At first I was angry. Then I realized, felt, saw...all of those things that something in my daughter's world was horribly wrong.


"Hebrokeupwithme" came out in a harried sob.


I only knew to throw open my arms and try to catch her, but she had already fallen.  I wrapped around her, knowing that my protection was all too late.  I felt the shaking cries as she nuzzled my sweater.  The tears that stung my own eyes were for her. They were for remembering this awful pain.


"I'm sorry Bunny. So very sorry."


"Why?" 


"Because you hurt." I said softly and wiped her tears.  More rushed in to take the place.


"Why did he leave?"


I knew why. We had been talking for a couple of weeks about the changes in their relationship.  Most of them were signal that the end was near. 


"Why did he do it like this?" she whimpered holding me tightly again.  Good Lord she's strong.


I didn't want to bash him. That would only hurt her more.  Actually I did. I wanted to call him every name in the book.  I wanted to ground him into pulp for being a number one royal motherfiretrucker to my daughter.


"I don't know Baby." I said rubbing her shoulders.  she sat for a while hugging Winston (who is the best tool for this kind of job. He's such a limp rag..) I looked at her sad eyes, bright with sorrow and her pouty little mouth and red tipped nose.  Boy he was the KING of jackasses at this moment.


"Sweetie..." I began slowly.


"Mom, please don't say it. I just don't want to hear it right now."


"Say what?"
"I told you so.""
I smiled gently. "No doll. I don't say those words. They are nothing but hurtful. I'll say that you are beautiful. Even now with your sad eyes and crazy hair.  I'll say I love you and so do the friends who will call and text and come to see you.  I'll say it will be okay and that he is an ass but you don't believe me right now."


She shook her head. "No."


"You don't believe me?"


"No. He wasn't just an ass Momma, he was a dick. A BIG DICK."


I almost fell out of my chair laughing. "Madeline GRACE! Those WORDS!!!"


"Momma, he is. He was and I'm telling the truth."  A new flood of tears came. "but....I... I... "


I hugged her again.  "I know Honey. You can't make someone love you back."


"Did you ever have someone not love you back?"


"Oh yes. And I cried just as hard as you are now."  My own heart winced with an ache of a memory.


"What happened Momma?  How did you ever love again?"


I sighed and searched the room for wisdom; assistance.  All four corners were empty.....


"Well ..." I stumbled over my recollection; I had laid awake at nights begging God to bring him back to me, to let me have just this one person in my life. I had cried swearing I would never foolishly open my heart because I didn't think I could survive the pain of losing my heart like that EVER again.


"I called him a big dick and called my friends.  Then THEY called him that and we called each other every day to call him that AGAIN.  I even began to laugh about it. Silly, huh?"


"MOMMA!" but I felt her face crinkle.


"It's not okay right now. It might not be okay tomorrow... but each day is new and each day will be one step farther away from this awful moment.  It's your getaway Honey, make the most of it. It's late Baby.  Can you sleep?"


"No.  But can I do something?"


I hesitated.


"Can I call Jax?" (her best friend and my "fake daughter")


"It's late..."


She nodded.


"Not too long ... and tell me what she says."


"I already know."she said smiling shakily "..and it sounds like dink."


I left her crying on the shoulder of my fake daughter. I found myself a little jealous of her need for someone else but I let go.  It was almost eleven when she came back in and laid down beside me.  


"And?" 


"She concurs." 


We giggled.  "Maddie, he's the first toad on the way to your prince."


"but what if he doesn't recognize me?"


"He will because you will be his princess. Always."


"Like Daddy?"


I smiled.


She yawned and kissed my head. "I'm going to go to bed."


"Sleep Doll baby. Well." I sighed with the weight of her world painfully tucked in my ribs and this boy's demise rolling around in my crazed, angry mother's mind. A shovel. I would need a shovel....


"Maybe not tonight Momma, but tomorrow is new; and maybe better."


"Then I wish you new."


"I love you Momma."


"I love you too Baby Girl." the tears were warm with regret. She had learned one of life's worse lessons.  I didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't the last time we would do this.  I will need many more shovels.




Maybe I shouldn't have posted this. Maybe it is too private. maybe I hurt for my daughter and I just wanted someone to hear me.  I hate my job at this moment; to stand by so helplessly...


Better days my friends. Better days and stronger hearts.

Trust me

He laughed to himself that she stayed just far enough away; within view, out of reach.  He enjoyed watching her keep an eye on him.  He was less subtle, as always.  When she moved through the party or was caught in conversational circles, he also moved if simply to see her look for him and change position.  Cat and mouse, but who was who this time?  Once, there had been no question. He had been in control and she had willingly followed him.  He missed her. Not just her congenial attitude, but her laughter, her smile, her energy and passion. And of course her body. He loved how they had fit together.

Danni had changed a lot in her mind since he had gone from her life.  She was stronger, more independent and less gullible.  He of course had affectionately called her naive.  She frowned at herself for she now saw his comment as a nickname for a fool.  Her feelings had been honest though muddled at times.  She had adored him; loved everything about him.  Though that hadn't been enough for Kevin.  He had wanted someone more angry and willing to argue.  She simply didn't see the point in it.  She had better things to do than fight.  Most people mistook her for weak. He had at some level.  She had loved him enough to let most of what he'd done and said slide. He had made her feel good and that had been everything then.  Now? Now, she liked to think of herself as different.  She knew Kevin had seen her tonight; really seen her. She had made sure she looked wonderful.  The black velvet split skirt showed off her muscular legs highlighted by her high cut boots.  The silver silk scarf around her blue blouse made her eyes gleam mischievously.  She vowed that she would not be the one to start a conversation.

Realizing she was refusing to make the first attempt, he at last crossed over to her.  He waited silently, listening to her laugh and talk with other people.  He held his drink, lazily tracing it with his thumb. He didn't enter the chit chat on purpose; forcing her to finally break and acknowledge him.  Her smile was small and polite.  This hurt him a little, remembering how easily she had laughed and smiled with him.

"It's really good to see you. How've you been?" she asked.  Kevin saw the slightest fire in her eyes as she focused solely on his face. He loved it when she did that. 

"I'm well. Busy as always.  You?" He could stand to play the polite version for now.

"Same." She stopped and let the silence scream between them.  She watched him shift his weight, slightly uncertain of her. 

He tried again with small talk of things they had shared together but she wouldn't bite.  She brushed them off and dismissed the memories, no matter how pleasant.  She then took over by asking him directly about his life, refusing to share hers.  He was caught up in her interest of him.  He found himself speaking too freely, offering opinions and details.  This wasn't like him. He made some half-assed joke about his job and she laughed easily, lightly touching his arm.  They moved together and closed their bodies to each other.  Conversation became softer, more intimate.

"You look great." he said honestly drinking sturdily from his glass.  She matched him.

"You too. Did you come to this shindig alone."

"Yes, but I'm hoping not to leave that way." he winked and drank again.  

She stiffened.  "Really?"

He tried to swallow the mouthful of golf ball sized foolish words. His cheeks reddened.

"And did you have your sights set on anyone in particular? Or are you still playing the field?"

"I don't do that anymore." 

"Mmmm" she nodded skeptically.  "You'll forgive me if I don't believe all of that."

He touched her hip and kissed her temple, inhaling her perfume and excitement. "I meant to say that ..." he caught himself before he dove head first into "AA" as she had called it: The Abyss of Assholes.

"I know exactly what you were implying." Her smile was small again.

"Danni..." 

"Kevin?" her look was of mock innocence. 

"I'm sorry."

"Yes. I'm sure; but more that you got caught and only a little that you hurt me."

"I've changed."

"...said the leopard wearing his same spots..."

He sighed.  "I'd like the chance to prove it."

"I'm sure."

"I wish you'd trust me."

"I did."

"Now."

"Easier said than done." 

Danni was amazed at the words flying so brusquely from her painted lips. Never had she imagined the ability to stand up to him.  She wondered how long it could last.  Her knees felt weak inside her velvet boots.  Her heart beat so hard she was certain her blouse flinched.  Then he leaned in and whispered in her ear. She felt the softness of his lips along the crook of her neck and almost fell to the floor.  

"I miss you Danni." 

She closed her eyes and tasted each word. Sweetly, they crept in her ear and began to swirl in her chest like a mass of butterfly wings. She reached up and touched his face.  

"I miss you too. I do." Her smile this time was slightly crooked  and she bit her lip.  He remembered that look.

The heat surged through him, warming every nerve in his body.  It was all he could do not to wrap her in his arms and begin to undress her. He closed his eyes and clasped her hand.  He kissed her fingers and held them tightly.  

Tilting her head toward his she lightly kissed the corner of his mouth.  "How about this shindig?"

"Time to go Danni." his breath was heavy.

She permitted him to slip his hand around her waist and guide her out of the party.

"Where is your room?" he asked quietly as he plunked her drink on a standing tray. He finished his own and continued to escort her.

"On the top floor."

"No good. Too far." he gruffed.

"Well excuse me. It's the room I wanted."

He rolled his eyes and chuffed.

"Does this mean that you don't want to take the stairs?"

"It means I may stop the elevator."

She laughed and snuggled in to his step.  She made it easy. He'd forgotten how easy it was to feel good with her.

They did not have the elevator alone.  She leaned into him, making it appear that they were huddled in quiet conversation and teased his thigh with her fingertips; tracing and touching until he had to clear his throat and change his stance. She enjoyed the firmness of his body, the raging want and the struggle to keep calm.

"You better stop." he half laughed pulling her hand away from him. He thought he might lose control. 

"Or?" she teased.

 

His hand unbuttoned her top button, caressing her nipple until it came to attention. He loved hearing her sigh.

"Do I need to continue?"

"Oh I believe you do" she grinned taking a hold of him once more.  

The bell of the elevator dinged softly and the huffy old couple that were their cell mates clucked disgustedly to each other as they stepped off.  "G'night!" Kevin said cheerily.  They turned and glared sending Danni and Kevin in to peels of laughter.  Danni threw her arms around his neck and nibbled his chin.  He smiled, kissing the tip of her nose.  At last the little bell chimed for her floor.  They both grew quiet.  Hand in hand they sauntered down the hall, their minds racing, playing out what they were doing and what would happen.  Who would get hurt? 

She unlocked the door, laying her purse down on the table.  He closed the door and stepped in front of her.  She let out a sigh.

"Are you sure?" he asked, running his hand along her bare arm.  Like a tiny army, the hairs stood up and the goose bumps raced along her flesh.

"Nope."

"Can you trust me?"

"Nope." her answer was a little sad this time.  she looked away, almost nervously.

He responded with a warm kiss; his lips full and tender.  His arms encircled her, pulling her close.  He heard her breath come deeply and relished the sweetness of her mouth.  His heart began to beat a little harder as his fingers became more playful.

Her body reacted to him instantly; as it always had. She felt his tongue tease her mouth and lips and welcomed him fully.  Her own mouth eagerly searched him in shadows of the room.  Danni pulled at his shirt and  belt as she gulped his kisses.  His skin was warm and soft.  She nuzzled his head to the side and kissed his throat and shoulder.  Tugging off his shirt, she kissed his chest  and cupped his chin while slowly walking him back toward the bed.  

Like a child playing Eensy Weensy Spider, his fingers crept up the back of her dress to unzip it and leave it in a pile on the floor.  she stood before him, naked and shy, save for the silk scarf draped around her throat.  His hands lightly traced every curve of her body, leaving her trembling with a warm, hungry desire.  He sat down, pulling her between his knees.  His hands cautiously slid over her hips and around her legs.  Gently he squeezed. They both sighed with anticipation.  His fingers traced the backs of her knees as he remembered she loved and then slowly made their way up.  He whispered her name against the flat of her belly and slowly began to explore her.  Danni wondered how long she could stand with every fiber in her body going weak.  She moaned and let her head fall forward, cradling his head in her arms and moved against him. She ached to feel him touch her, have her.   He lay back slowly and coaxed her above him; one hand guiding her hips and the other stroking her intimately.  He could feel her body tighten and heard her breath becoming more husky.

"Let it go." he softly asked. "I want to see you let it go."

This seemed to interrupt her.  She stopped and smiled.  Beckoning with playful kisses, she got him to sit up with her.  Knees on either side, she took off her scarf and wrapped it around his eyes.  She felt his hesitation but reassured him by tracing his earlobe with her tongue. 

"trust me." she giggled and nibbled lightly.

He sighed and became putty.  She gently pushed him back down on the bed and began to reacquaint herself with his body.  Her mouth was soft and curious.  Her tongue was warm and sweet.  He quickly responded when she began to fuddle with his trousers, kicking them off to join her dress; wrinkled and unwanted on the carpet.  Her fingertips tickled across his chest, trailed down his sides and across his legs.  She felt his muscles tense and teased his belly with small breaths of his name whispered in the dark.  She barely kissed the flesh of his hips and waited for him to clutch the sheets as she tasted his body.  He groaned, shifting in the bed to feel as much of her as he could.  Her movements were slow and deliberate.  She felt him losing control.

He tugged at the silk. Touching her was driving him mad, he had to see her.  "Oh God Danni..." he growled, pulling her roughly above him to kiss her.  He held her face and for a few moments, simply looked at her.  His own smile was small; his eyes, dark and yearning.  Kevin rolled her gently to her back where he began his own erotic exploration.  

She rose up to meet his fingers, and gasped to feel his breath, his tongue. She asked him at last to make love to her, unable to resist any more.  

"Please." she whimpered.

He loomed passionately over her, watching her quivering lips and feeling her legs entwine him; her body warmly begging to feel him entirely.  She began to rock slowly with his rhythm.  He stayed above her, pulling her hips toward him, slowly at first, but then as the excitement grew between them, more urgently.  Danni grabbed at him and pulled him close.  Their breath was raspy. Their bodies slick and hungry. Kevin felt her push hard against him.  She rose up fiercely kissing his shoulders.  He felt her teeth at first, but she relinquished, ending more subtly with her voice echoing quietly "yes" and "please".  She began to tremble, the energy and desire rising to a sensual frenzy. Kevin felt the burning in his thighs and like lightening, it scrambled along his body.  He pushed back and moaned her name.  They were perfect; together.  He lay beside her drawing absently along the curve of her hip. The night snuck away leaving early dawn to eaves drop from outside the thick hotel curtains.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"A dollar for each mistake."

He paused, wounded by her melancholy.

"Was it?"

"I don't know yet. It's morning and you're still here so I have to wait..."

Silently he dressed and looked back at her.  She tilted her face just enough so he couldn't see the tears burning her cheeks. The door clunked shut.  Her heart cracked but she willed it not to break. Not completely.  She simply cried it to sleep. It beat heavy with regret.

It was several hours before she woke again.  Her stomach grumbling from neglect.  She rolled over to see coffee and fruit delicately laid along the bureau's edge and heard the soft patter of the shower.  A sideways smile crept across her lips.  Standing and approaching her breakfast she laughed as the fruit had been cut in to  small pieces and laid out in letters.  The two words were punctuated by a perfect strawberry.

She plucked it from the dresser and sauntered down the hall to him, scarf in hand.

I wanted to welcome you back with...a smile? a bang? Hmmmm I've been away for so long and it's been even longer since I've written a tawdry one.  I hate to fall out of practice.  So I hope you can endure and enjoy. heehee.  I have a quiet weekend planned for a change so let's hope we can catch up soon and do this again?  I do love your company.  

Thanks for hanging in there with me. Nice to be back with you all.