-
July 2005 // New York City, New York
There was a shift in the sea of sheets and the water witch crawled out from amongst the waves of white fabric. Gargled moans in broken bass crawled up from a smoke scratched throat as large hands pawed at the emerging Venus incarnate. Like a serpent she hissed at him and batted his hand away from her as she climbed from the bed and tested the stability of her wispy legs. A half a bottle of vodka and bottomless pit of pills had left her body with an ache that burrowed down to the bone, it made her feel weak. He barked a laugh and sprawled across the blankets to make a lazy snatch for her sharp hip.
?C?mere, baby!? He catcalled as she slapped his hand away and ambled across the room to the armoire and the mirror angled on the top of it. Fingers pulled at the skin pulled across the bone of her face and smudged the eyeliner stitched across the outline of her eyes. They dipped down to the smear of red faded to pink across her lips and at their corners from hot kisses in a catch of lips in the back of taxicabs. The monster of a man sauntered up behind her and she heard the floorboard shriek beneath the weight of his body. The mirror reflected him back at her, behind her like a grievous wraith eager to swallow her soul. His thick fingers coiled into the flare of her hips and burrowed into sun soaked skin to pull her hips back into the corresponding curve of his own.
?What the fuck are you doing?? She seethed.
?C?mon baby, don?t be that way! I thought we had fun ? just like old times!?
?You were an easy fuck. You and I both know the drill -- you?re supposed to be gone by sunrise.?
He hunched forward in a sharp angle of his spine to settle his chin against the plane of her shoulder, she tried to shrug it off but he persisted and she surrendered with a white flag wave of her palms. Her lips cut into a snarl with a small sliver of white seen behind diluted red. His lips pecked a trail of kisses along her neck to the junction of her jaw before he knocked his head gently against hers. Shadow soaked eyes stared at her through the mirror at their corpse blue counterparts. Her palms molded over the edge of the armoire with fingers fanned across its time splintered surface.
?Why the fuck are you still here?? She snapped her teeth at him and dipped away in a switchblade slice of narrow hips and spin on her heels. His jaw slacked and he turned lazily to watch her fret over the articles of his clothing that lay strewn through the studio apartment from the door to the off-centered bed. Each piece was gathered up in a wrap of her arms and before he could stop her she had thrown them out the open window and into the bustling street below. People hollered curses toward the crazy woman up above, though did little to drown out the curses coming from inside the apartment.
?WHAT THE HELL, SAWYER!? He howled like a wolf to the moon, lunging toward the window to soak up the sun and summer swelter that held the Big Apple in a stranglehold. He knocked her out of the way but didn?t drop her from her feet. Laughter erupted from the depths of her stomach, crawled up deep in chest, and echoed through the corridor of her throat. The wild woman?s fury had left the man with more than a few gutter ruined pieces of clothing over the years. Fingers splayed and her hand pressed to her mouth to muffle laughter as he peeled away from the window and shot a fire hot glare in her direction.
?You?re a real fuckin? bitch sometimes, Sawyer.? He spat in her direction, gathering up the sheets to wrap around him like a toga. The garb suited the modern day Adonis as he stormed from the apartment, slamming the door in a slap of wood into the splintered frame. Sawyer hung back and meandered toward the door, hooking the chain and twisting the second lock before she moved back over to the bed. Her sleep had been light in the company of a guest. She sprawled in the empty bed and rolled onto her stomach to peer at the armoire where the picture of them sat.
?If only he knew I dated him for the sex.? And broke up with him six months later after a slew of arguments and infidelities.
<font color="#FFFFFF" size="1">[ October 13, 2007 06:12 PM: Message edited by: midnight spookshow ]</font>
-
<center>http://i192.photobucket.com/albums/z...ennamiller.jpg
Well it's been a long time, long time now
since I've seen you smile
and I'll gamble away my fright
and I'll gamble away my time
and in a year, a year or so
this will slip into the sea
well it's been a long time, long time now
since I've seen you smile
nobody raise their voices
just another night to mourn to
nobody raise their voices
just another night to mourn to
</center>
Beirut -- Nantes
<font color="#FFFFFF" size="1">[ October 11, 2007 07:15 AM: Message edited by: midnight spookshow ]</font>
-
The gallery felt empty when it wasn't packed from wall to wall with New York City's social elite. The grand opening had been a success and money had flowed in waves from the rich and pretentious who did their good deed by supporting a not so struggling artist. Sawyer had settled in behind the desk with her feet kicked up and ankles crossed in a measure of modesty. Fingers clawed at her skin through the rips in her vibrant red stockings that exposed more skin than they covered, all the way down to the unlaced combat boots that barely hung onto her feet. Neither articles of clothing seemed to fit with the black Versace dress that cut too low to be considered modest and rose too high on her thighs to be considered classy. Lost in reverie, she hadn't noticed the man lurking in the doorway. However, the moment his voice broke the silence, she wanted to crawl under her desk and hide.
"Hey."
Her palms were sweaty.
"Y'gonna talk to me, sugah?" He drawled after his initial greeting. The Southern boy had always known how to charm Sawyer like no other.
"I don't really want to."
"Why not?"
"You left me."
"I had some shit I had to take care of," he protested.
"You didn't say goodbye. You didn't even give me an explanation!"
She drew her legs down and slid from her seat. She clunked across the hardwood floor of the gallery and gave a fierce shove to move him out the door. He stood his ground with his weight on his toes. She shoved harder, but didn't gain anything from it. Defeated, she stepped back and crossed her arms beneath her chest. They stared each other down and after an eternity (in reality it was a few fleeting seconds), he shook his head and waved his hands in surrender.
"You win, I'll go."
He turned his back to her and headed back out the door. She hung back for a moment before she jogged forward and snagged him by the arm to pull him around to face her. His face lit up and she leaned forward to smear a hot, wet kiss across his lips. When she pulled back, he was grinning. Sawyer didn't wait long, instead she started walking backwards toward the gallery. When he reached out to stop her, she dodged his advance and rolled her shoulders in a shrug.
"This is what you missed out on, Mac. Take a good look, because you're never going to get it back." While it hurt to let go, Sawyer had finally learned how to say goodbye in her own brutal way.
-
Smoke wound like a serpent around the elegant shape of her hepburn face. The sweet smell of strawberries and marijuana filled the small room of her apartment and seeped through the window with the whistle of the wind. The sun had yet to breach the horizon and Sawyer was left in a dreamy haze about the night's events. From the laundromat romp to the backseat taxi fuck, her body still burn from the physical exertion that came with hours upon hours of sex. Jack was still sprawled on the bed a contrast of dark skin against white sheets. She could still taste him on her skin. In a smooth shift of weight and roll of her spine, she climbed from the bed and meandered to the ledge-seat beneath the wide, cracked window. Winter flooded the city and it felt as if Fall had been skipped all together. The cold buried deep into her bones and ached in her joints and while she normally hid beneath layers of fabric, she came ill-prepared for the chill of the night. The moon splintered light across her sun soaked skin, illuminating it in the colors of the evening and highlighting the smooth, graceful curves of her body. It was when the sun had set and the stars were stitched into the sky that Sawyer looked most beautiful.
The joint ended after a slow burn and after tapping the ash out the window, she stubbed it out in a metal ashtray on the sill and made her approach of the easel and the canvas propped up on it in the corner. The half-finished piece was a smear of color and the details had yet to be painted. A woman and man were tangled together and nude, though that was about it. The night's escapades had inspired her to finish the piece that had been commissioned from an avid collector of her paintings and millionaire pervert from the Catskills. Fingertips slid softly over the thin brush like the skin of a lover and with a easy slide of wrist lifted it and dipped it in a deep, dark shade of red. Professional grace and slide of rest helped her etch out the expression on the woman's face. Her beauty was devastating, her expression was endearing; a woman at the height of her orgasm. Her nails buried into the man's back, her legs bent and loosely wrapped at his muscular hips. He was hard with muscle, contrary to her soft curves and small physique. The process was slow. Detail took more time than the broader, less intricate parts of the painting. After an hour, she had finished the facial expressions and retreated to the bed. Her nude form slid beneath blankets and after a brief ten minutes she was asleep again, eager for her morning cigarette and another sexual adventure.
She wanted to know Jack Justice's body better than she knew her own.
She wanted to study ever inch of him through tantric sex in kama sutra pose.
-
<center>http://i104.photobucket.com/albums/m...9195089331.gif</center>
She's ordinary. The kind of ordinary that's dangerously beautiful; like an angel from the underworld or a devil from paradise.
