This is a growing collection of my stories. I appear to favour writing about sex and death, not always together. I'm also writing two books. Some days it feels like most other people inhabit a world where you can aimlessly wander into vendor-created wonderlands and purchase things you never knew you needed - for entertainment. The mind boggles. I believe it's because I wasn't allowed to watch television as a child. I just don't get some things. I'm ok with that
Monday, August 30, 2010
Bacon and All Spice (Part 4)
Abbey woke the next morning with a sense of wonder. She lay back on the cotton sheets and gazed at the high ceiling of her room. The ornate centre- piece drew her eye in an elaborate circle. Again! She loved it, the bed was large and comfortable, sunlight streamed in from her high windows. What kind of a day would today be? After the drama and mayhem of last night, could anything be as exciting?
Abbey worked at a car dealership as a receptionist and wrote gory, scary, beloved b-grade movies in her spare time. She had sold two, without calling herself Abbey. Her lounge room sagged with its massive collection of shlock horror. Today was Saturday and for once, in her short life, she didn't have to be anywhere, or meet anyone.
Abbey pictured her room in darkness, a snap-shot of happiness - popcorn, a mug of milo a smile and a dvd. She sighed and felt the weight of her bedding on her chest. For now, she could smile contentedly at the ceiling, alive and warm from sleep. Her thoughts drifted to a sexy man in her apartment block. The way he had kissed her, beguiling, honest and sensual. It made Abbey wonder why on earth something had made her hesitate, bringing their games to an end.
She knew, after all that if he was interested in her. A dynamic relationship, fueled by more than just sex beckoned. Hell, being together in the same room as him seemed to create sparks. Perhaps she wanted more than just sex, and that was why she had shied away from a more pleasurable evening. Her thighs throbbed with the weight of an unspent promise. Abbey knew it had taken almost all her gumption to step from his embrace and slow things down. Highfield wasn't a man she wanted just to fuck, she realised. He had an enthusiastic take on the world, a languid humour and a lazy wit, she wanted to get to know him.
Abbey reached over to her night table, searching for the piece of ripped white-lined paper, the kind she so detested. A bold disregard for consequences made her dial it.
His mobile rang. Abbey's heart thumped in her chest. Sleepily, he answered, the deep, soft timber to his voice causing a shock of electricity to run right through her. Abbey adjusted the pillow near her arm.
"Goo' morning" having not spoken to anyone, her voice was hoarse and though she didn't know it, wary.
"Morning princess." Highfield put no emphasis on the word. He chuckled down the phone.
"Did you dream like I did?" he said in a rich, male voice that made her think of golden syrup and chocolate.
"You know what I think?" Abbey spoke boldly, she felt the blood quicken in her veins.
"What is it?"
"I don't know"
She hung up. The uncertainty of the next few minutes hung on the air.
The doorbell rang and then she knew. All of a sudden Abbey felt no remorse. It was one thing to tease a man and another to crave his company.
With the confidence of a woman that knows her fridge holds bacon and eggs and mushrooms, she opened the door to all 6 " 4 of him blocking her doorway. He wore flannalette space pajamas, only the bottoms and a dark blue singlet. He filled out both the singlet and his pajamas nicely, she noted. His well shaped arms spilled out through the arm holes and she wanted those big warm appendages, desperately, to hold her. What impulse prevented her from throwing herself into his sturdy arms? Abbey didn't know, but she was glad of it. Already she was shaking with anticipation.
Lifting her gaze to a broad, hard chest that spoke of pure masculinity and sunlight. Abbey took a deep breath.
"So you say" Highfield said soflty, as he insinuated himself into her living room. He looked both perturbingly gauled and self righteous.
"I can't really explain it..." In the moment that followed, Highfield reached up and placed a wayward lock of Abbey's hair behind her ear. She could have felt a pin drop. As she drew a breath, the world seemed to stop,
"I invited you for breakfast."
"Good." Highfield said the word lightly, though his eyes tortured hers with another question.
"Well I went," triumphantly "in the rain last night, to the shops"
"So I hear". Highfield's reply was as dry as her mouth when he looked at her. Abbey wore Elmo flannelette pajama pants, not dis-similar to his own, light blue singlet, no bra and a cheeky grin on her face. What the hey? And she could think of nothing she would rather do, than spend a little more time with this enigmatic, cheeky man.
"You know what?"
"No". Abbey looked up at Highfield, through her lashes. To hell with decorum, she wanted this man and was sure that he could read it in her eyes.
Highfield mounted a grin on his face. She leaned forward without thinking to receive a kiss. He planted his warm lips on hers.
"I don't want bacon. I don't eat bacon, You don't know anything about me Abbey. What I do want - is an evening with you tonight. I'll pick you up at 8."
He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on over his pajama top.
"I'll see you then. You are crazy, beautiful and I don't know how I am going to stand it. But I'm walking away now, and I'll see you tonight"
He left. Abbey chewed her lip in her own sitting room. She got up after a minute and got out her kitchen skissors, she began to cut the bacon rind.