Thank you very much, beautiful!
I felt undesired- correction, I was, and had been for a very long time.
You stood there in front me, I can remember it like it was just mere minutes away in memory. You looked so sincere and spoke like it too. Your expression trying to resemble something so fucking believable it just made me want to laugh even harder than what was going on on the inside already.
You tilted your head ever so lightly, like you usually did when you tried to physically show me you were sorry. How beautiful I apparently was, how you in fact did desire every inch of me; touching me. The tiny tug at the beginning of your brows; they quivered. And I would have believed you again, but it was just too exhausting. Far too exhausting. Far too repetitive. I was sick now.
A soft, hesitant smile crossed your lips as you noticed my body, deciding to approach, my expression weary and very unsure. However, I knew exactly what I wanted. You held your arms out for the cliché ‘it’s okay..’, But it wasn’t this time. It was far from okay, and soon enough, you would be too.
It was almost too difficult to pull from the warmth and permanence of the embrace, however the rage is what kept me focused, reaching my hands to smooth up from your back, to the sides of your neck, it all seemed forgiving and romantic at the time, that was until you noticed something; you couldn’t breathe. I wouldn’t let you, and as my hands, as tiny as they were, and as much as you used to make fun of me for them for how child-like they always were, you were now at their mercy, as the power gain only increased on my behalf. Funny, for someone with so much talk and authority, you sure seemed to be struggling for words now, on your back, with the weight of me on your chest after collapsing from weakness.
I remember, I was choking you. So fucking hard I was almost too excited to fall back into the reality of how terrible this really was. Squeezing, squeezing until I felt something foreign. Something, the only thing I’ve ever really wanted. Desire. Your eyes begged. You were desiring me. Desiring me to stop. I just couldn’t. Because along with the euphoric feeling that refused to stop stimulating me, came the last tears you would ever cry. You were loosing air, loosing breath. You were dying, just like we had been.
I laid with you, holding your hand. We would no longer hurt any more, no longer would we argue or be spiteful. It was a shame though, the only time you truly ever desired me, was within the last few minutes of your life.
As I walked alley through alley way, back street after street, the hope and thrill of a dangerous approach seemed to be further away from me than what I would have anticipated. It was a friday evening. So where were they? Where was everyone? The insanes, the mindless drunks, the loonies- someone just looking to start some trouble. That’s what I needed, before I could begin to have fun and cause mine.
Suddenly- a taker. Potentially… I was just getting ahead of myself; hopeful, impatient. Hungry, rather. Hungry to put some miserable, dirty pig in his place. Or, in pieces rather.
His footsteps seemed to lag, like he was waiting for something- or someone. I was this someone, I would make sure of that.
It was never often, but tonight, she cried. Softly, she cried, wiping away the wasted amount of mascara and eyeliner that had been applied only seconds before, and moments before then, there, having to live with the guilt and mess of a person whom stared back at her from the large cylinder mirror, rimmed with the brilliant lightbulbs and feathered boas.
With one leg, mesh stocking, up, resting against the base surface of the dresser, she could only hang her head. A bottle of nail polish clinking to its side, spilling it’s gluttonous ink like matter. The smell filled her nostrils, a euphoric scent that only lasted a second or two before she bit down and against her bottom lip, watching the polish drip and pool against the dirty tiling of the dressing room floor.
How many more nights until she had enough? How many more sheets would she tangle throughout, until yet another bottle of polish was through?
A slow and regretful head lift later, she slipped into the stilettos, ballancing herself between the dresser and the affect the powdered candy seemed to be having on her shaken legs and clammy palms. She dug her painted acrylics into the polished wood, helpless.
The lonely woman swept through dark corridors, her long, thin ebony hair, a cascade of satin blanket, as her long, frail fingers crept to coil about the brittle, chipped beam of the classroom door. She peeked her head ‘round corner, where she saw him, his posture rising to straighten after having burried his strong nose within the finest of white lines
She couldn’t help but slink silently, as she often would, now standing behind him with what appeared to be a smirk, spread with amusement. However, this time, she couldn’t place a finger as to whether she was lustful, or just wanted complication.
Why does it always seem, that us women, the more make up we wear, the more effort we put into our hair; looks- the more “beautiful” we are… the more unhappy we seem to be with ourselves.
Blow those words out the back of your head
[Tuesday, May 20th; 03:45pm]
This was no surprise to Cyrus, as he stood, light headed and faint, inheriting that oh so familiar churning inside his stomach; just waiting on the vomit; only mere inches from who he thought to be someone he ‘loved’. He watched her; he watched how Noel slurred her bullshit words with pathetic hesitance; how she kept looking away; pivoting back and forth as she forced and made up excuses from her trembled, nervous lips. ‘It wasn’t working.’ She kept hinting, but Cyrus refused to pick up the hint. He knew it hadn’t been. He knew from the moment she told him ‘I’m not mature enough for this much commitment.I’m just a kid’ And that had been admitted almost a year and a half ago.They walked silently for a few moments until Cyrus decided to break their lack of words.
“Alright, Noel,” He stopped abruptly, swiftly turning around to face her, looking down with a somewhat fed up expression. “You leave me.” He continued; monotone. “You leave me right here, now. At this moment, place and time. And tomorrow, I won’t be there; waiting for you by the big tree, in front of your junior high. I’ll just leave my high school, and go home. And we won’t speak ever again, alright? Okay? After today, Noel, I’m gone, and we’ll pretend there was nothing.” Cyrus watched her; somewhat hoping she’d reconsider her train of thought. Hoping she would do what was expected. And so, like every other time…
“…Well I..-” She mumbled, handling the violin case she had swung over and around her back (she was a string student). A sigh released itself as she came forth; wrapping lose arms around his waist.
“Maybe I’m just having an off day…and I-” “You what?” Cyrus asked quietly, returning with an embrace of his own. Noel shook her head, letting go and backing herself away, looking up with a fake smile.
“You love me too much, Cye, It’s not healthy.” Cyrus shook his head with brief laughter, cutting her expression as far out of his mind as he could.
“Yeah-ha…That’s just it.” Rolled eyes, humoring the little girl that stood before him. Sadly, that’s really all she was. A little girl. A little thirteen year old brat who was spoiled and would do anything to make a name for herself. And dating a boy who was three years older and in freshman year, certainly seemed to be her spotlight for the time being.
Another silence rolled on between the two as they now reached Noel’s destination, the same as every Thursday afternoon at four pm. Violin rehearsal. She would always go on about wanting to actually make something of herself, besides her foolish dream of becoming a video game maker. And how being a famous violinist would make her look so elegant. To Cyrus, it was all bullshit. All he cared about at this point, was counting down the days and weeks, surviving them with a ‘girlfriend’ and not being alone. He didn’t really care if he was miserable ninety percent of the time, at least he could say things like ‘yeah, I’ve got me a girl.’ And that was that.
Noel stopped, clearing her throat as she extended a hand and waved.
“Cya tomorrow at lunch then?” Her voice still held that tone of ‘I’m being completely fake but I’m going to assume you can’t tell and think everything is back to normal.’ Cyrus didn’t buy it, but as always, liked to ignore it for something else. Something that it wasn’t. But this time, for some reason, he couldn’t do it. For he noticed something. As his eyes caught notice of her hand, noticing the ring he had bought her for Christmas that year lacked it’s place upon her middle finger; right hand, he once again regained a squeamish feeling within his abdomen.
“Noel, where’s the ring?” He demanded.
“Ring..?” She hesitantly peeped. “Oh! Oh my ring; the one you- Ohh! Yeah, sorry, Cye~”
He knew they were done. It had been over from the first time she pulled this.
” I took it off because I got a shower this morning.” “But you always keep it on, don’t you?”
“Yeah…” She shyed, “But I was afraid to lose it, I’ll have it tomorrow for you, don’t worry!” A smile followed by a neck dip forward was gestured. Cyrus backed away.
“No kiss?” “Figured you wouldn’t want one.” He shrugged, not caring either way.
“Of course, I love your kisses!~” She chimed too sweetly.
“Yeah, Noel…” Came a small grunt as Cyrus made a gloomy attempt to plant just a small kiss within the corner of her lips. The effort made on Noel’s side made him cringe. Such a fake feeling took hold of Cyrus’ subconscious as he, for the first time was the one to pull away and turn his back to her. “Tomorrow I guess.” He muttered; feet picking up a slow and shuffled rhythm as he began to walk away.
[Friday, May 23rd; 11:15am]
Quick and long steps proceeded down a large line of fast food restaurants as well as small and home business shops as Cyrus made his way to lunch, as he did almost every day throughout the week. He could feel, despite Noel telling him they were still ‘alright’, that things were only just about to get worse. ‘No ring? Because of a shower? Fuck that!’ He thought. This was true. For Noel had never thought even twice about removing that ring from her finger. But the more Cyrus dwelled upon his misfortune, the more of a big ‘whatever’ it became. Perhaps seperation was for the best.
He entered the McDonald’s as he turned right.
Pushing himself through a wing of glass doors, his eyes began to wander about; in search of Noel. And to his dismay followed by two other of her young pathetic friends. The one sitting next to her was Kayla. Nose pierced, black hair, patted push-up bras that were way more than likely hard as rock. And not to mention an embarrassing attempt at dark make-up. She looked like something out of a vampire freak’s pop up add. It truly made him shake his head. The second teenie-bopper made him ill. There was just no words to describe her as other than a big epic failure. Kelsie. Cyrus and Kelsie went way back. Since Daycare. And even then he had hated her. Nose pierced, Spaniard, long dark hair; wavy. Body; an awkward pair shape. She gestured a hyper wave, signaling for him to sit down.
“Cyrus!! Over here; oh hey!”
He rolled eyes, dreading each and every word spoken by this girl. For she was nothing more than a little girl herself; trying to act too grown up for her own good. Kayla merely waved. Not much was wrong with her; in Cyrus’ opinion. But like any other middle school student, she tried too hard. And try as he may to block out the high-pitched shrill of Kelsie dreadful voice, he somehow just couldn’t.
He sluggishly slouched down into a seat as he found his way over to them, eye contact an instant fail.
“So…How were your morning classes, Cye?” Came a sweet and cheery questioning. Noel of course. She always knew how to perk up a situation. At first, Cyrus held back an answer. Instead he decided to study her for what may have seemed like the last time. Her shoulder length black hair, the same as always; a side bang. And that cute little yellow bow, and how her words seemed to mingle about like a fly in panic, attempting it’s escape from a spider’s web.Her words were nothing but bullshit…
Cyrus shook his head. His mind warping into a Gothic state of mind. Something normal for him it seemed. He released a heavy sigh as he couldn’t help but notice the guilty expression all three girls held.
Noel swallowed rather uncomfortable, picking up on her ‘boyfriend’s’ lack of co-operation in conversation. Just decided to try another approach.
“So what’re you gonna have for lunch, Cye? A burger, fries, snack wrap-” “You know I don’t normally eat at lunch.” He snapped. “Plus, this is shit. I’m surprised you aren’t the size of Kelsie over there, eatin’ this crap every day.”
“Cyrus!” Noel exclaimed, a small amount of laughter awkwardly distributed.
Just then, an awkward silence over came the group, but it didn’t seem relevant to Cyrus’ rude comment just made.
Kelsie cleared her throat, obviously pretending she heard nothing. “Cyrus…” She said sternly, looking across, dead eyed center. He waited, no doubt she would try and defend herself, but he was wrong. Dead wrong. He realized this when looking down at Noel’s gentle hand, supporting her defined jaw line as she refused eye contact.
“Can I talk to you for a sec? In private..? We need to have a chat.”
“No..” He muttered, closing his eyes; head shaking. “What?” She questioned.
“I said no. Where’s the ring. Noel? Got another shower this morning, forgot it again?”
Noel, looked up, colour drained from her face, lips trembling for words to speak. “I..-Cyrus, well you see I..”
“Wow..” He chuckled,
“You actually doing this, huh? Here…? In Micky dees? really?”
Noel, again, attempting to justify herself, said nothing though she tried. She could feel the raise of his tone, things weren’t going to go well.
“So yesterday?! Everything you said? Lies, right!? Fucking lies; making me think we were okay?!” He demanded, coming to a stand with slammed palms against the table’s surface.
“No. Cyrus…You’re making a scene, stop!” “A scene!? I’m making a scene?” He laughed, as if in mental disbelief. “I’ll show you a fucking scene! Give me the fucking ring!” He screamed, causing heads within the restaurant to turn and settle uncomfortable eyes on the two. One boy in particular, sitting in the farthest corner; sipping kindly on a strawed beverage, ached his curious neck, covered by a large flanal indie scarf.
Meanwhile, Cyrus stood, and despite him in all of his fury, felt rather foolish. Perhaps this had been as angry as he’d ever been. So angry in fact, calming down was the last thing on the mind. He slammed his hand down, open, awaiting what he demanded of Noel, only to have Kelsie place it in his hand.
“What the fuck are you doing with it!?” He hollered.
“I gave it to her!” Noel defended. “I wanted her to do it…” “So, you’re a coward?” He asked, for some reason calmly.
She refused a response.
“You all are fucking wrapped up in one another. Fucking sluts!” He hurled insults, followed by the abrupt action of picking up what had left of Kayla’s coke cup and beaming it forth to spill all over Noel’s fine white shirt. She gasped, not being able to do much more.
“Fuck you!” He screamed. “Fuck you all! You were ALL in on this! You guys knew she was doing this to me today?!”
Kelsie said nothing, as Kayla did exactly the same.
“This is ridiculous…” Laughed Cyrus as he then grabbed his school bag and turned about, ready to head out, ring jammed into the deep pocket of his TRIP pants. Nearing the door to depart, a small snicker stopped him dead within his tracks. He turned his head as he then saw a small boy with dark skin and glasses with a bandanna flattening his hair. Cyrus waltz over, angrily questioning him.
“The fuck you laughin’ about!?”
The boy looked up at him rather calmly, smirking a little.
” ‘Cuz just got dumped, eh?” He responded with an arched eyebrow. “In Micky dees no less!”
“Fucking punk!” Snarled Cyrus, reaching forth to grab him by the collar, bringing him to an elevated position.
“Hey!” He cried, “Screw off, kid! I was kidding! Let me go you asshole!!”
Cyrus, released his grip when being confronted by a store manager. “Hey, you punk! I think it’s time you leave here before I call the cops!”
The assaulted boy landed abruptly, hitting the floor as he watched the six foot four blonde, dressed in black take an angered leave, using his steel toed combat boots to open the door for him, proceeding to stomp down the street and out of view.
Despite it only being lunch time, Cyrus’ last priority was to return for afternoon classes. And so, he made his way to the closest bus terminal. Perhaps an afternoon home and of sleeping would do him some good. After all, now that Noel had nothing to do with his life anymore, perhaps things would begin to look less dramatic. Or at least, he had hoped.
Every now and again, I had to admit, Queenie would share with us, some ridiculous, fucked up, bogus idea about how we needed to spend more quality time together. Like a family should be. But this-bloody hell- this took the cake. And not just a piece. Oh no, this time in particular, that pretty little wife of mine managed to steal this cake; the whole cake, and run with it.
It’s a Sunday morning. And instead of being passed out, still sloshed after drinking massive amounts of God knows what; on the living room floor, I was sitting in the fourth row, off to the right side, in a bloody pew, listening to some old bastard talk about God.
God. I thought to myself. Wonder what his blood would taste like…
However, this thought was quickly pushed to the very back of my mind as my attention was suddenly taken possession of by a young woman, hardly pushing thirty, in the next row over. And it was all too funny, really. She was in no way making the fact that she was totally eye-fucking me discrete. She also had done a fine job (I had to admit) of making sure I noticed her well displayed breasts, just ever so slightly peaking cleavage above her innocent button-up blouse.
Yeah, no. Was my very first thought. You must be what, almost twenty? Which was surprising for a man like myself. A Man…I always found it difficult to refer to myself as that. And let’s just say, despite my youthful, mid-twenty appearance, I had no doubt been older than her father.
I smirked in her direction, shaking my head. She may have had a chance at getting in my pants thirty years ago, but not now. Besides…my wife’s were way bigger.
If I remembered correctly, Church was only supposed to last a little over an hour. So why was it that I could have sworn that it felt like another few centuries of my God forsaken life was being wasted?
I slowly turned my head to glance over at my daughter, Christina, who I knew for a fact would rather be somewhere else, fucking her girlfriend. I couldn’t blame her. We were both in the same boat. Christina. Church. Irony? Nonetheless, I loved her very much. She was beautiful; taking after me in so many ways, appose to her mother. Which surprised me greatly. But of course, being the spitting image of myself in female form, she was good-looking.
I was almost too afraid to look over at Jonah; my son. I had always heard stories about twins, and how there would be one of the two that always pushed your buttons in some weird way. But he just took it to an entirely new level. I mean, if I had wanted to surround myself with someone like ‘that’. I may as well just have never moved out of Curtis’ apartment.
Queenie’s bright idea was that, when the children were born, which was both an amusing and breath-taking experience, (The reason for this being, I was now a father, and had gotten to see Queenie in stir-ups) was that she wanted to enforce a family outing, at least once a week. Which was all fine and well. But you can imagine that Church definitely wasn’t the first thing on my mind.
Finally, as the year-long seeming sermons and Holy stories ended, both Christina and I exchanged sighs of relief, standing and beginning to shuffle through and passed groups of both the young and elderly. At once, I felt the need to fasten my palms and squeezing fingertips against Queenie’s hips; dressed in a thin layer of smooth cotton as we then proceeded together, down the hall walk. The young woman from earlier…I think she had gotten the message, considering her eyes shot daggers straight toward Queenie. Noticing, she asked, “Oh dear…Did I do something wrong?”
I loved when she sounded so innocent. It never failed to bring a smile to my lips every time. The reason behind this minor action was because I think I was the only one who knew of her ‘not so innocent’ side.
“Don’t fink so, love.”
I said casually, and full of cockney. “Why, love?” “That woman over there…” She leaned against my chest, speaking quietly. “…she looked at me as though she had some sort of death wish.”
Her tone completely changed. I knew this tone very well. She felt challenged. It was so sexy.
“No clue, Q.” I grinned. “Odd…”
She kept walking.
Again, my attention wandered as the Church began to clear out. But this time, it wasn’t a question of who it was grabbed by, but what. I had never taken part in a confession before, so the thought of it intrigued me as I brought my pace to a halt.
“Is something wrong?” Queenie asked me, looking back. The Twins were no doubt already outside, waiting for us by the Bentley.
“Not really.” I shook my head. “Just a little curious.” “About?” “That.” I pointed to a medium sized constructed build, that, in my immature opinion, resembled the make of an outhouse.
“I think it would be a great idea.” She responded immediately, as if I had already posed the inquiry of a session. I wrinkled my nose at her.
“Well why not? Come to think about it…you’ve never had any source of therapy, or even venting in your life so far.”
This was true. So I pondered the idea before Queenie basically made up my own mind for me. Something she tended to do a lot.
“I’ll leave you to it.” She chimed, telling me that ‘brunch’ would be saved for me when I returned home. She knew I rarely ever ate much of anything, but the thought of sounding and acting like a wife pleased her nonetheless.
As I made my way toward the confession booth, I at once gained a playful mind-set. This was going to be a blast! Me, sitting on the other side of some mesh stitched wall, spilling my years of slaughter and bloodshed. Of unprotected, both gay and straight sex and drug abuse. It delighted me to think that at the end of this fruity little ordeal, I would have some old fuck, dressed in robes, shitting his pants -and if I was lucky- traumatized over knowing the story of my horribly lived life.
I was so excited as I entered the compact little space, sitting, legs spread apart, palms cupped my knees as I sat there, waiting. What now? Was there some kind of bell, or string to be pulled, so that this old fart could come and listen to me already?
My ears suddenly perked at the sound of movement, shuffling almost. He sat down on the other side, I could now see him, faintly through the pin-pricked mesh that separated both of our identities.
“Good day, my son. And how can myself and the Lord help you?”
Oh, God. I thought to myself. Laughing almost had been an option. It was just like in the movies.
I straightened my posture, trying so hard to keep ‘professional’ and not pull out my lighter and smokes.
“Forgive me Father…” I decided to jump right into it, a smirk holding firm against my lips.
“…for I have sinned.”
Pryscilla felt Desiré clumsily let go of her hand, unable to regain the grip that once was, due to being whisked away ever so abruptly by the dancing, electrifying crowd. The dance floor was a dangerous place to be when left. Especially for a girl to be all by her lonesome. However, Pryscilla was more than confident enough to trust her gut feeling when a situation was getting bad. Or in her own words, ‘sketchy’.
She sighed, shaking her head before making a quick attempt to blend back into the crowd, slowly grinding her hips back and forth, soon followed by fingers pushing through her luscious blonde locks of platinum hair. It wasn’t much time before she had two young men dancing at both ends, hands cradled around her waist.
Eyes watched from a close, but safe enough distance, studying Pryscilla with an almost precocious intent. Aleksandr was never one for ‘stalking’ about, but something about this over-rated, obnoxious, face-painted, trashy, big busted blonde, somehow proved to be much of a fickle interest. And had been for quite sometime. The girls back home in Mother-Russia had certainly never been so out of line.
He would wait until he and Pryscilla could meet under, a little more quieter circumstances. But until then, looking down from the sky-bar sidelines, studying every inch of body language she gestured was all being retained. And all too carefully. And then, opportunity struck. He followed her with his eyes at first, then with his own movement. The hour-glass blonde was on the move, no doubt for a breath of fresh air. He would meet her outside…
Pushing past, and of course thanking both young gentlemen for the heated dance, Pryscilla hurried outside, quickly lighting up a cigarette, ever so gracefully leaning against the wall. She took one inhale successfully before being bothered. What was it this time? She wondered.
Pryscilla’s attention was drawn immediately. “Oh.~” She recognized his face at once. “You’re that guy!” She pointed, leaning over, her dress baring more than enough cleavage.
Aleksandr studied her more. A perfect opportunity now that they were so close. He raised his eyebrow at her, releasing a quiet chuckle.
“That guy? I need auh…lighter. Please.” “Ya here ya go!” She laughed, pulling a bubbly pink lighter from between her breasts. Aleksandr carefully played his fingers against its warmth as he pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it, almost like it was a task to take great pride in.
“So…you’re in one of my classes.” “You’re smart girl, aren’t you?”
Something about his words, and it not being the alcohol, forced a stirring Pryscilla indeed felt wasn’t the least bit nessecary. Yet it intrigued her; dangerously. However, she insisted on playing hard to get.
“I can be.” She giggled ever so innocently. Bullshit. Aleksandr knew exactly what she wanted. But strangely enough knew she could care less of who it was shared with. He could tell by the way she pivoted on her little shiny stilettos, leaned from one soft porcelain leg to the other, occasionally moving her hips in attempt to stay up right. He was thinking so unlike himself.
“Mhmm..” He nodded, carefully extending his arm out to give her back the lighter.
“Thanks.” She quickly tucked it back into her cleavage, fixing herself briefly. She then tossed her finished cigarette to the concrete, stepping down firmly.
“Friend of yours?” Aleksandr muttered casually, his thick Russian accent hard to hide, referring to the approaching boys who now surrounded Pryscilla. Her expression was lazy, as her eyes quickly tried to keep up with their movements.
“Hey baby. Goin’ ‘ome wiff anyone tonight? Fuckin’ lush you are.”
“Yeah! Owe us somefin’ dont’cha? Bought you a good deal of drinks.” “H-ey!” She pushed back, jerking away from them. Aleksandr was not amused. Boys disgusted him. Not men. For these were not men. Only mere, pathetic, hormonal little boys. Enough. He pushed himself past the drunken chavs, gripping Pryscilla’s wrist and pulling her along with him.
“Why don’t you boys find someone else to harass with your obnoxiousness? Leave her to me.” He growled, simply walking away with her on his arm. He was finally intrigued.
“Fuckin’ weirdo, you are..” The chavs scoffed, stumbling off to no doubt bother some other unfortunate harlot.
“Where are..we going?” Pryscilla demanded, stumbling about as she looked up at him.
“Glupaya devochka*…” The foreign words smoothly rolled from his tongue. “…you should watch who you lead on.”
“I so~ didn’t..!” She argued. ” And…what was that bit..before?”
Aleksandr grinned, his footing coming to a slow halt; turning to her, his eyes scanning her one last time; to fully make up his mind. He wanted her. All of her.
“YA dumayu, chto* ….”
Pryscilla looked up at him with almost a worry embedded within her blue-green eyes.
“…you should come home with me.” He looked at her with deep narrowed eyes. “Vy yedete domoĭ so mnoĭ segodnya vecherom. Da.”
Pryscilla shook her head as wincing eyes attempted to keep up with his words, but no matter how clearly she thought she heard, she still couldn’t understand.
“I promise…” He whispered, leaning into her. “You won’t be disappointed…”
Pryscilla felt her knees weaken, falling into his chest. And before she even had time to rethink all of this, she was getting out of the cab, quickly climbing and stumbling up the stairs to his apartment. Just barely making it into the hallway. Aleksandr roughly gripped a hold of her underarm, spinning her to face him just before firmly pressing her to the wall.
“Are you…ready Pryscilla..?” He asked, breathing against her collar bone, dipping to kiss them tenderly; nibbling. She released a faint exhale, arching her back.
“Mmh…yes. I know what you want…” He gently placed a hand to cup her pelvic area, massaging ever so boldly, pressing two fingers firmly.
”..Fuck.” She groaned, not knowing exactly what to do. “Yes…” Aleksandr teased. ”You want it…I can smell it.”
He led her to the bedroom, sitting on the end corner of the twin sized mattress, looking up at her.
Pryscilla arched her leg up onto the bed, Aleksandr, quickly wrapping an arm around her waist, gripping a palm’s worth of her backside, squeezing. Her breathing increased, chest heaving as she looked down at him with narrowed eyes.
” I hope you know…” She smirked. “Come Monday…Aleksandr, who?” Aleksandr bit his lip, arching a thick eyebrow.
“Well then…? Make it good…” His voice bellowed, his fingers caressing her fine, soft, skin.
“Oh, it’ll be good, foreigner.” Pryscilla straddled him quite confidently, lustfully looking into his eyes. “Now, did you bring me here to play? Or to fuck? I’m a little bit of a Princess. I only want the best, and My patience are like, zero.”
Aleksandr was surprised, but in an amused fashion, in which forced him to further question, could she really handle it?
“A little bit of both my dear girl…and like I said, you won’t be disappointed.” He smirked, caressing her cheek. Her chin. And then her lips.
Pryscilla gasped faintly, her body tensing up at once. She could feel his eyes. She looked up with an expression of hesitance.
“Something wrong?” He asked. “Y..yea actually.” Aleksandr was puzzled, leaning back some. However, his eyes remained upon her bubble-gum pink frosted lips.
“I like, don’t really know you that well…and well, no kissing please?”
“My…you’re a very odd one, Pryscilla. You’re willing to have me inside of your body, but…I can’t even have a taste of your precious lips?” “You’re…really creepy…” “It’s a serious question.” “It’s…different.” She looked away; Aleksandr grasping the emotional concept of it going deeper than just.
“Very well then.” He cleared his throat, looking back at her with a relaxed, yet at the same time, cocky expression. A smirk once again visible.
“So, as I was previously saying…We will both play…and fuck.”
Pryscilla swiftly reached behind, un-zipping her strapless dress. In the act of pulling it down to reveal her near naked body, practically covered in tattoos, in which Aleksandr had never really noticed before, she looked up at him with a rather cocky grin herself.
“Just say go…” Her eyebrow arched; daring him. She licked her lips very slowly before a sharp inhale was taken, due to the surprise of Aleksandr’s swift movement and grip as he now had both wrists gripped tightly, forcing Pryscilla onto her back; leaning over her. Pryscilla had indeed no idea as to what she had now gotten herself into.
“Peryeĭti*.” He whispered closely against her ear, biting down. She winced, biting her bottom lip. Aleksandr proceeded to kiss tenderly from her collar bones, down to the very tip of her nipple, further, until, “What’re you…doing?” She whined, a curious panic lingering to her voice as she couldn’t help but scrunch her expression uncomfortably. He bit her softly, however, this would have only lasted until he too burned with such a devious passion for sex, bitting harder upon her lower abdomen.
Burying himself between her thick tattooed thighs, Aleksandr insisted he used his tongue to the fullest of his abilities, thrusting a little too quickly for Pryscilla’s liking. She whined, throwing her head back, and arms; gripping the pillows that propped her head up so endearingly. It had been quite sometime since anyone had touched like this, let alone stole a taste.
Their progress was quick, for it was only mere moments before Aleksandr ordered her by hair being coiled around his slender but firm fingertips, pulling, tearing into the position he now wanted.
“Na spine*.” He growled, eyes fully occupied with a scary lust.
“YA skazal: na spine, zhenshchina!*”
Pryscilla whimpered, looking up at him, as if knowing exactly what to do.
He wasted absolute no time forcing himself inside, creating a slow at first rhythm, however it didn’t last very long at all before Pryscilla felt herself tear. It had been forever since penetration. She felt the warmth of her eyes letting loose a single tear from each as she gripped his shoulders, clawing, digging.
“Oh, fuck!” She hollered, riding out the throbbing pain that took longer than usual to turn to complete pleasure. However, once it did take place, another sharp pain interfered.
Aleksandr looked down at her, back hunched as he still made rugged exhales and forceful hip thrusts inside of her. He grinned, kissing her neck tenderly, licking, sucking, finally breaking the skin ever so abruptly. She let loose a scream before a sweaty palm covered her quivering lips.
She muffled, he moaned, chuckling almost as he felt himself at a full release.
“You are mine now.” He spoke in almost a warning, looking into Pryscilla’s eyes, calmly, forcing a soft kiss against her mouth. She flinched, in a state of swollen shock as he slowly pulled out.
“Now,” He looked at her with a soft expression, smiling. “Why don’t you wash yourself…and dress that wound. I won’t have you dirtying my sheets.”
If it weren’t for the liquor, she definitely would have had something to say. This would have never happened. She quivered, as Aleksandr watched her struggled to walk a proper step to the bathroom, which was located in the very same room. She looked into the mirror at the stained lipstick and eye shadow, then the mess of spilled blood that soaked all the down from her collar bone to her navel. She touched the open sore, deep teeth marks that would no doubt scar nice and pretty. What did this mean?
Little did Prycilla know, this certainly wouldn’t be the first and last time she would be in the company of Aleksandr Khrushchev.