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Post by steph2 on Nov 14, 2011 23:44:58 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] click for outfitThe party was just like any house party for the wealthy. Hair up in a chic and sleek pony tail, makeup consisting only of mascara, light blush, and nude lipstick, and an outfit that screamed style and high fashion, Svetlana was ready to go in all her Russian glory. Her mini skirt was right against her and that alone cost one hundred and forty five dollars-cheap compared to her six hundred dollar nude Jimmy Choo pumps on her feet, sixteen hundred something dollar clutch, and thirty four hundred something dollar blazer. The cheapest thing she wore was her black tank top, mostly hidden, which was only seven dollars. The bare essentials were always cheap even if they were designer. She stood at five feet tall with six inches with out heels and thus-those Jimmy Choo's were necessary. Walking through the thick crowd, she smiled at whoever greeted her but the smiles weren't genuine and it was clear by how quickly they slipped off her face the second she'd turned away from them. She was headed toward the back of the vast property to the pool house where she knew no one would be. She'd be able to get a cigarette break for a few minutes before she'd have to jump right back in and hunt down a drug dealer. She'd never really done drugs other than stealing a few of her Mama Bear's random prescription pills but she needed the real deal now. With everything happening lately, it was becoming increasingly obvious that she was looking for other means of escaping all the drama. Her plan to ruin her best friend's engagement was about to be underway and if she was going to force herself to sleep with Charlotte's fiancee, she'd have to be drugged up in order to do so that way she wouldn't enjoy it-or wouldn't remember enjoying it-and thus would feel much less guilty in the process. She had a feeling, deep down, that Charlotte was probably in love with the guy but didn't want to admit it. Still, she made it painfully known that she didn't want him-she wanted her freedom and Svetlana would give her just what she asked for. Her heels clicked as she walked across the patio still crowded with people and then down the paved walkway to the pool house which was dramatically empty save for the sex noises coming from the trees that outlined the properties. Couldn't they at least find a room? Not wanting to bare with the noises, she was about to pop the lock on the door to the pool house but found it magically opened. Smiling to herself at her own discovery, she was lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag, blowing the smoke out as she walked in and made sure not to turn on the lights. It would attract people to her fortress of solitude and she didn't want the owner of the place to go annoying her for breaking into the pool house that was clearly off limits. With ease, she went to go lounge on the couch that was in a bit of a cove, propping up her legs on the glass coffee table. It was then that she heard someone or something in the other room and she froze, halfway to bringing the cigarette back to her lips when the lights were suddenly turned on and she was temporarily blinded, "Idiot! Turn it off!" she barked out harshly, her Russian accent thick as she spoke. If people knew there were others in a new found area- everyone would come like the wall of death and then there would be nowhere but the bathroom for solitude and she didn't want to end up in a place that reeked of vomit and expensive male cologne.
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Post by hkblood on Nov 15, 2011 15:25:32 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] TAKE ME BY THE TONGUE AND I'LL KNOW YOU The Words: 770 The Outfit: this The NotesHe makes bank He hated them, rich snobby fuckers and their house parties. They wore more dollars than he would make burning in the sun and drawing tourists every day. How the fuck could they get away with it? Mummy and Daddy threw them a piece of plastic with a centimeter wide strip through that had all their money in quick access. Nolan didn’t have that anymore and he barely had it when he grew up. His parents were tightwads and they ousted him when his little sister died. You might as well say he pulled the trigger that killed her; by the way they treated their own son.
He may hate them and their surplus of money, but he needed them to pay his bills. He was loaded with drugs and they all knew it. Some of them were regulars and some of them kept eyeing him, staring, as they internally debated whether or not to buy. However, he wasn’t going to wait for them, he had to sell this load in order to pay rent tomorrow. There was no waiting and there was no limit to how much they could buy at once. These drugs were walking auction, like he was eBay, buy now until it’s going, going, going, and gone.
He had what they needed if they could ask for it. Weed, heroin, cocaine, ecstasy, speed, benzo’s, LSD, and shrooms (but they were going fast). Weed was the most in abundance and he never cared if he didn’t sell it all, but he always came so damn close to selling it that he kept the last of it for himself. Weed was the first thing sold, they needed it for their five foot tall bongs or their bowls or their joints. Usually, what sold next was shrooms, ecstasy, LSD – the lure they had on first timers who did other things was high. He sold them for a good chunk of change. Sometimes he could afford another tattoo off of them. The other things he had, with cocaine also being a top seller, were asked for. He didn’t broadcast them – he clients who were relying on him having it and he only brought extra to gain another loyal client.
His night was going good; this was a profitable party for him. He could almost call it quits for the night, but he saw them. He saw the wallflowers and the whispers – they wanted what he had and he would wait for them tonight. With everyone in this house doing it, he knew they would cave and come crawling out of all the nooks and crannies for it. They did come and they were still coming. At a surprising rate they came out from the woodwork, he found his pockets bare and he had to go to his store, his backpack hidden in the beach house.
The couple having hot and heavy sex reminded him – it had been a damn long time since he had that natural high. He did want it, but he gave up one night stands in the search for a partner. He wanted to love a girl, wake up in bed and cuddle her. Feel the soft, tempting, allure of her skin. Look at her eyes; feel entranced, even if make-up was smudged around them. Make her tea if she was sick – the big spoon to her little spoon. He wanted to fall in love with a woman, but he was sure – she was not in here. He couldn’t give some high heeled, expensive blazer, and deadly lips kind of woman the future she wanted.
Flipping on the lights, he was startled to find someone in his stockroom. The nerve of this woman to call him an idiot, when she was the one who entered his stockroom! He staked it out and broke it into himself. He only complied with her bark because there was enough light to find what he needed and she was not too far from his bag. He would rather not lose all that cash in the bag to her.
He approached her and sat down in the chair across from her, moving his bag to his lap. He glanced at her, before shoving cash into one pocket and rummaging through another. He saw her before, she needed something from him, but she didn’t know it was him. “Idiot? No, I’m not an idiot.” When he could make this amount of cash out of people who were feeling sorry for themselves – he was no idiot. “Smoking in a pool house alone seems kind of odd to me. Are you waiting for someone, Princess Anastasia?”
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Post by steph2 on Nov 15, 2011 15:55:26 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] click for outfit"That's Princess Svetlana to you," she said it harsher than she intended but she didn't care. At least he got the country right. If she was called Bulgarian or Swedish one more time..., "and everyone outside is being a pain in the ass...plus the music sucks," which was true. She didn't like the loud booms of the dubstep blasting through the speakers, the techno crap that gave her a headache because it was so repetitive. She wouldn't really admit it to her friends, but she normally jammed out to oldies like Guns N Roses, Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, The Misfits, Madonna, and anything else that fell into those genres and categories. Occasionally she'd indulge in some of pop culture with Lady Gaga and Britney Spears but she mostly stuck to the classics. She took another drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke out, "And you are an idiot," she rolled her eyes, "Do you want the world to find you and your shit in here? Most of it would get stolen. The lights stay off." She wasn't a controlling person. If anything, Svetlana was like a puppet with her mother, Mama Bear as she so often referred to her, as the puppet master. She did as she was told-even leaving the country and agreeing to getting deported back to her hell hole in Russia instead of fighting to stay in the country. She listened-always listened-and maybe that was why she was barking at him. That and the music really was giving her a headache. Finishing her cigarette faster than she would have liked, she put it out on the small table next to her, not caring if she messed up their furniture. They could buy another one with property this big. It shouldn't matter, "So," she blew a couple loose strands out of her face, "I know you have skag. How much for all of it?" Did she really want that much? Yes. She liked stocking up. That way she didn't have to see him until absolutely necessary. She had the house to herself so it wasn't even like she needed to hide it from anyone. She get whatever he would give her for whatever price and then put it in her 2011 candy red Chevy Camaro convertible. Once that was done, she'd leave. She had no other reason to be there. She rarely ever saw Reese at these parties and Charlotte was doing God knows what with God knows who...she wasn't entirely into this scene either. This had always been Sevvie's territory. Though she never really bought from dealers directly (she had people who did that for her) she was a bit in a pinch. She didn't care about people knowing she took pills. Nowadays who didn't? But here was what really bothered her. People couldn't know she moved on to heroin. It was the drug that with one injection, snort, however you do it, you're hooked. She knew this and at this point, she didn't care. She didn't care if it rotted her from the inside out. Truthfully, she was tired of feeling anything. Everyone in their town that took heroin ended up a burn out or in rehab by the end of the year. She'd beat them. She wouldn't go to rehab, she wouldn't burn out, for a year. It would be easier to help her mother with all the divorces especially the one coming up. She was going to sleep with the father of the guy who took her virginity in high school. It was enough to make her skin crawl but her and her mother needed the money, the property, their cars, everything. This was how they made their wealth-this was how they became known as the notorious Heart Breakers, "Well...?" she was being a bit impatient but she was nervous about trying it. He'd have to show her because God knew she had only ever seen it done a handful of times when she'd been stuck in Russia in the ghettos.
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Post by hkblood on Nov 15, 2011 16:43:08 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]TAKE ME BY THE TONGUE AND I'LL KNOW YOU The Words: 789 The Outfit: this The Notes: He's trying to get a profit here. lol I had to research how much was a standard rate for a gram. His princess seemed to have a loud bark that followed by a harsh nip, but he doubted she had a painful bite. She had her reasons like the rest of the girls with pretty faces and harsh attitudes to follow. He would ignore it, because he had no further interest in her beyond the deal if she was going to buy from him. He found himself looking at her shoes – he could tell they were expensive because he swore his best friend’s stepmom had a similar pair. His eyes followed up her body, rather quickly and not noticeably to her face as she spoke the annoying crowd and the terrible music, he snorted in reply.
“Terrible music aside, everyone out there is a customer to me. Pain in the ass for you? You’re not the one they’re trying to jip. This is expensive and high-quality shit. Nothing less for my clientele they have big enough bankbooks to pay for the best.” He may have sounded cocky, but it was in their language. People of her class rank liked to be reassured and fed that they were getting the best of the best for their money. They really were, Nolan didn’t jip them in any sort of way. He had this all planned out, he had to make enough to rebuy more supply and pay his rent. His food and other necessities he made throw his passion of art or he go “table scraps” from the family upstairs.
He snorted at her scolding him for the lights on, again. It hadn’t been an easy task to get into the pool house, but no one else besides her and him were in their sober mind to think to try to go into the pool house after attempting to get in earlier. “You go to this party late, fashionably late. No one in their sober mind would think of trying to get in here after trying earlier in the night.” He went back to tallying what he had left in his possession, there was enough for the buyers inside the house for what they wanted, but he wasn’t sure what she wanted and he was hoping it was not cocaine. It was gone, along with the shrooms, easy E, and speed.
To his surprise, she would be his last client if she was looking for heroin. He stood up, with his backpack on his back, not trusting to leave it with her when it was this filled with cash. “I’ll be right back, Princess Svetlana, I have a few clients in the house that come before you and then you can get what you want if you sit tight on your pampered little tush.” He headed back into the house and got his money worth. Already shit-faced out of their mind, they couldn’t realize that they were getting overcharged for what they wanted. With his princess waiting in the pool house, he wouldn’t be able to do the same tactic. She was sober, he could tell, and maybe she had a little knowledge. If she didn’t know the going rates, which he would decipher when returning by how she acted, he could get a good commission from her. She was buying in bulk and that was always a good sign.
He came back to her and shut the door behind himself; her impatient “well” gave him a good insight to what he needed to do. Watching her body-language, he pinned her for knowing what this would do to her, the hesitance she has to do, but also the reason why she wanted to do. It was her first time buying and with the lights for the pool being turned on, he watched her face. She was, indeed, beautiful – a face he would wish to recreate its likeness on canvas. It would be a pleasure to paint her, just for her features, but that was different.
“I have a gram, $450 firm. If you only want half of that, I can find another person to get the other half. It should last you about two weeks before you need some more again.” Pulling out his bag, he held it in his hand tossed it back and forth – he never let them touch it before they gave him the money. He just couldn’t afford to lose it and he couldn’t afford to lose her respect now before she got addicted. He would need her business if she chose to be all in. He always felt a singe of guilt getting someone addicted to it, but it was how he survived. “I have a syringe still sterile and packaged how it was delivered. I’ll throw it in for ten. So, what do you say, Princess?"
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Post by steph2 on Nov 15, 2011 17:10:13 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] click for outfitAs he mentioned the price, she did a double take on him. Seriously? It was that cheap? She still hesitated though after he pulled it out and was tossing it back and forth in between his hands. She wasn't deliberating on the price monetarily. She was debating on how this was going to change her. She knew it would, ultimately, and in a way she wanted the change-welcomed it with open arms even if it was for the worse. Pushing all hesitance out of her mind, she reached into her tiny clutch and pulled out a crisp Grover Clevland. It was more than double of his asking price but she had no change and she planned on getting his next one as soon as he had it, "I'll pay you ahead of time," she said simply, handing him the money with ease. She didn't care much-it was her mother's. Svetlana wasn't stupid enough to buy drugs with her own money. Her own money was safely hidden in a Swedish bank account away from her mother's prying eyes as well as the government's-just because, after being deported, she was that paranoid. Did she really just drop one thousand on drugs? What the fuck was wrong with her? Everything. "And you can drop it off at my place once you get it-and I'll even give you a nice tip when you do," she was just being a bitch, to be honest. It helped her not think about what she was doing. This was a good thing, wasn't it? Despite all the stories she'd heard, she wasn't them. She wasn't stupid enough to get so hooked, she'd waste away. She sat up so she could fully face him, the lights on but the curtains drawn tightly, which she'd done once he'd left. She didn't want anyone, drunk or sober, to see her doing something like this. It wasn't shameful-she just had an image to protect. She didn't want anyone knowing she wasn't from a prestigious Russian family. She didn't want anyone to know she'd grown up dirt poor with barely any food on her plate. She didn't want anyone to know she was the one who slept with all seven of her mother's previous husbands in order to get money out of them in a divorce. She didn't want people to know Sevvie, practically the right hand gal of the top chick in Sapphire Bay, was buying heroin off a complete stranger she'd never even heard about. "So show me how to do it....person," she didn't say it as harshly as she moved to the edge of her seat and took off her blazer, knowing damn well that it involved a belt, syringe, and an accessible vein in the crook of her arm but that was about as far as she knew how it went. He'd better show her correctly and not kill her or she was going to go all Russian Crazy Bitch on him....granted if she was dead she couldn't, but she'd come back as a ghost and make his life a living hell-more so if it wasn't already. She imagined anyone without money to have a crappy life-because that was how her's had been. Rags to riches and she didn't regret becoming rich-she just regretted the process of it. She was in the business of destroying people...just like this guy was. She'd have to get his name-even if it was a false one. And his number if this stuff was any good. That and she was paying ahead of time so she'd need it regardless when she got his number and gave him her address. And if he didn't keep his word and disappeared with the rest of her money? She'd make sure he wouldn't be able to sell anywhere on the west coast. He'd have to go down south with the hicks or out west with the red necks.
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Post by hkblood on Nov 15, 2011 17:53:11 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]TAKE ME BY THE TONGUE AND I'LL KNOW YOU The Words: 700 The Outfit: this The Notes: The chemicaaaaaalss reeaaaact. He was astounded that she was so trusting to give him over double of what he was charging, but he couldn’t complain. This bill alone would buy him enough supply to do tomorrow’s night parties. This was only Thursday night and the sales were above normal for him and this pushed him over. He would have to tuck another gram aside for her, because he wasn’t going to lose this high-roller. When she gave the bill, he passed her goods. He was always curious why women who were as beautiful as she chose to self-mutilate through drugs. He wouldn’t ask and to forget about it, he, himself, would get high later. Cannabis was his beloved friend on nights when he put the wheels in motion to destroy someone’s life.
If you asked his parents, this wouldn’t be the first time he destroyed someone’s life. He destroyed theirs, didn’t he?
She could insult him about tips and such, like he was her pizza delivery boy, but his work was done here. He put the syringe and belt out on to the table for her – he had no reason to stay. No reason to listen to belittlement by her. She was the one buying his drugs, he quit all of the except for weed back when he was twenty-three. He just zipped up his backpack and put it on.
He was trying to escape before she asked him to show her, but he was too slow. Too caught up in thinking about her, why she was doing it and maybe admiring her physique when she sat up to ask him to show her. It wasn’t a bark or a command, she just asked him to show her. He would have to do it – he was the only one in this place who could show her right without possibly ending her life. Everyone else, they were gone. They were just having a good time with what he sold them. She was no different; she was just a deer in the headlights.
He wished he was high. He always made himself sick doing this sober, but he had to. She was watching him, waiting. There was only a few more seconds before she would snap “well?” at him again. He shrugged off his backpack and set it on the chair it had been in before. He needed to find a spoon – he didn’t carry that with him. He found one easily, washed it in hot water just for good measure before coming back and setting it on the table.
“First, the belt goes around your upper arm of choice tightly.” He motioned and took the arm she referenced for it. “Slapping the inside of the elbow like this,” he demonstrated by slapping her and waiting for her veins to become more prominent. “Helps the veins stick out. Almost like we’re going to draw blood at the doctors, kay?” He measured out how much she needed with his fingers, he just knew by now. He didn’t second guess his judgment about how much or not enough.
He put his dose on the spoon and found his lighter in his pocket. “Now we heat this up to make it liquid.” Before he did, he readied the syringe silently and then did what he told her he was going to do. He could feel her eyes watching him; he could feel her thinking about this. It was too later now; he couldn’t let her stop him. “Then we suck it into the syringe.” He did so and then he turned to her, taking her arm with his left hand.
“And now, you inject into this vein.” He pushed the needle in. He released it into her bloodstream. He lit the wick on her candle; he would start her addiction like he had with many saps before her. It was gone and it was within her now. He could leave her; this was no longer his responsibility. He would just have to find her for the other half of what he now owed her. Yet, he couldn’t leave her just yet. He rocked back on his legs, he was crouching, and he waited to see the princess react.
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Post by steph2 on Nov 15, 2011 19:25:45 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] click for outfitShe watched him carefully, concentrating on what he was saying and making sure she memorized all the steps necessary. Svetlana, despite being known for being a slut, wasn’t as dumb as people sometimes would mistake her for. She was smart-she just didn’t like letting on just how smart she was. She always dumbed herself down just a little because being too smart, and a female, automatically made you a million things you didn’t want to be – like arrogant because of intelligence. Or uptight or untouchable. Sevvie was touchable-very-and she made it known because it was the only way she knew how to fit into American society. Her mother used to make her sit there and watch American reality shows and tell her that was how American women acted-she should act that way too but to always remember she was stronger and better than them in every way because she was Russian and Russians did everything better. As he grabbed her wrist, she watched the needle go in. She made sure she had a carefully placed mask of indifference on her face, almost as if she didn’t care what was happening but once the needle went in, her muscles immediately tensed up. She didn’t pull away though-it just dawned on her exactly what she was doing and she swallowed back the loud string of curses she wanted to let out-toward herself not the guy. The cute guy with the tattoos that she just handed a thousand dollar bill to like it meant nothing. As she felt the skag swim into her bloodstream, her pupils widened a bit at the surprise and she pulled her arm away immediately after he finished and took off the belt, handing it back to him. She was forcing herself not to react the way she wanted to and she wasn’t exactly sure why. The entire time, she’d had her posture in its usual perfect position, something that became a habit since she did ballet almost every day, but soon enough, she couldn’t hide her reaction and her shoulders slowly slumped. She could feel her arm tingling and felt it run through the rest of her before she felt warm….and suddenly numb. It was exactly what she was looking for and she was almost tempted to tell him to do it again and join her. It had been years since she felt nothing and to her, it was perfect bliss. Looking up at him, she locked her eyes onto his, her eyelids drooping a bit and she swayed slightly but caught herself with a slight smirk to her face at how stupid that was. “It doesn’t bother you?” the harshness was gone, replaced by what surprisingly sounded like a normal tone of voice for her. It wasn’t slowed down nor was it sped up. It had her typical thick Russian accent but it wasn’t a bark or a snap. She sounded like she was having a normal conversation despite the topic of choice being a tad bit more gloomy than intended, “Selling drugs to other people?” she always wanted to know what it was like for drug dealers. She felt a tad bit philosophical but then again, she suddenly was taking a great interest in him. She’d initially thought he was cute when she first saw him but now it was like he was glowing-or maybe it was the effect of the lights, “Don’t you do anything else to make money? Waiter, music, art?” she leaned in closer to him despite her thin shoulders curving in around her like she wanted to make herself as little as possible. When she was younger, before she’d made any friends here, she used to sit at home in her room and just hide out. It was a weird habit of hers just like how she hated thunder and used to hide in the closet during storms or under the table because no one used to be home. Her hands were trembling ever so slightly probably because she hadn’t eaten anything today. She never had food in her house-only alcohol. She usually went out to eat with Mama Bear or she’d order food in and most of it would end up in the trash. She usually drank or went out to party, go surfing, or practice ballet over at the university since at night no one was ever there to watch her. Her fingers gently traced the word life tattooed on his fingers but she didn’t take her eyes off his face and his clear blue orbs. She never did like guys with tattoos. She figured they were all hoodlums but he was different, wasn’t he? It was like the tattoos added to his beauty… Or maybe it was just the heroin talking.
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Post by hkblood on Nov 15, 2011 21:57:29 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]OPEN UP MY EAGER EYES, BECAUSE I'M MR. BRIGHTSIDE The Words: 636 The Outfit: this The Notes: Jealousy turning saints into the sea. He was quiet as he watched her; it was like watching a rose blossom in the midst of chaos. It was wrong; it was a dirty trade and a dirty line of business to be in. He didn’t know her or who she was outside this pool house. She was a client and he could never get involved with clients. He couldn’t handle the attachment, he would like her. He would want to be her friend. Late night drives, fast food, singing to a song on the radio. He could not have that with this princess. She was beautiful, it’s true, but he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep talking to her sober. He needed to be fucking high.
He rummaged through his bag, finding the last of the weed he had. He set his pipe on the counter; it was his most beloved possession next to his brushes. It was a beauty, his best friend bought it for him way back when they were sixteen. He didn’t want to buy his alone from the head shop; he had Nolan pick one out. He picked one that he found beautiful and artistic. It was green and hand pained with small specs of blue paint. One day, he would want to learn how to make bongs and pips – just so he could make even more profit.
He blew into the mouth piece while plugging the carb with his thumb to make sure it wasn’t clog. He took his weed and broke it off into two pieces larger than the hole of the bowl, but only by a slight little bit. He removed stems and seeds, but he was distracted as she was talking, but he didn’t stop his process. He didn’t have to look at what he was doing – he knew by the touch. She hit the nail on the head – it did bother him – that’s why he had to end the night by getting baked to live with himself. Especially when corrupting the most beautiful of flowers, like this Russian princess.
“It does bother me, but you gotta do it to survive. I don’t mind is so much when they are already addicted. I can’t help ‘em, can’t stop ‘em. I don’t care where their money comes from as long as it’s not counterfeit. “He pressed down with his thumb and he was ready for takeoff. He chuckled aloud at thought of becoming an airplane heading off into the sky and carrying this Russian princess with him. She asked him one last question – what he did other than destroying people’s lives.
“I paint; I draw caricatures of people at beaches, I paint murals on walls. You know sometimes I make mosaics, but it’s fucking hard.” He lit his pipe, inhaled it slowly while watching how much he was taking and he breathed in slowly then he exhaled it. It was pure fucking bliss and he found himself staring at Princess, she was tracing life on his hands and it felt right. He wanted to touch her skin, she looked so soft, her lips were so tempting, and they were luring him in. Her gaze was unmoving and he didn’t want to leave. There was no logic; all plans of abandoning her were gone. He wouldn’t leave this princess in the tower by herself until he was right.
Who did the right thing anymore? Certainly not Princess; if Princess wasn’t doing the right thing than neither was he. They could be wrong together, because wrong felt fucking fantastic. He took another hit off his pipe; these drugs really had a hold of him.
He just met her and he was thinking he was in love with her. It was cannabis and he was horny, but maybe it was because he just wanted to touch her; naked or clothed.
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Post by steph2 on Nov 15, 2011 22:21:29 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] click for outfitIt suddenly felt like she'd known him forever-like this wasn't a chance meeting. They'd met before hadn't they? A long time ago sometime maybe and she just couldn't remember right at that moment. She grabbed his jaw gently with her slender fingers so that even if he wanted to, he couldn't look away from her. It was like she was memorizing his face, afraid that if she looked away, she'd look back and he'd be nothing more than a figment of her imagination. She didn't know where all of this was coming from and she, quite frankly, didn't care. Her fingertip lightly traced over his lips as she looked down at them. They were fuller than her own, which she liked. For the first time ever, his monetary status and social class didn't even enter her mind. Normally, that was the first thing she looked for in a guy-then came whether she was physically attracted or not. It was the way Mama Bear taught her: men couldn't break her-she had to break them first. It was how she learned the art of seduction, how to lure a man in with the batting of her lashes, a subtle flash of smooth golden skin, the brushing of her hair over a thin shoulder. It was how she learned how to say the right things at the right time to have him wrapped around her finger. But this guy, who's name she hadn't even gotten, she didn't want to pull out all the tricks of the trade. She was just entranced by how blue his eyes were, how the crook of his nose lead right to his sculpted lips, "You paint," she said quietly, eyes wavering as they looked back up into his eyes, "I dance. We're both artists," she smiled softly, not even bothering to hide how amused she was by this. She'd never let anyone see her dance other than her old instructor who had told her she should apply to Juilliard in New York City but she hadn't. She couldn't afford it even with all the money she had. That and she didn't have the guts to go to the try outs. It scared her to let others watch her do something she so prized as being her own-something special people knew about her but had never witnessed. Then, leaning in, she brushed her lips against his before climbing up to straddle him. She wanted to touch him...be pet like a kitten. It was a weird feeling. She was numb but she wanted his skin against her own. It probably wasn't a good idea, given the fact she was in a mini skirt and it rode up a bit with the way she was sitting, but she didn't care. Sober her probably wouldn't have cared either, "You're beautiful," she whispered quietly like it was some kind of major secret she only wanted to share with him. He was and with wide eyes she acknowledged this so boldly. He really was beautiful but that was something she wouldn't have said if she were sober. She would have told him he was ugly as sin, that he was the scum of the earth-all just because he wasn't wealthy and she didn't want to find someone poor, like she used to be and technically really was, attractive. Without hesitating, she reached the bottom hem of his shirt and slipped it off him to reveal his tattoos and she drank in the sight of him like he was the most breathtaking sight she'd ever seen. She didn't know why she wanted him so badly-she never wanted anyone like this....ever. It had to be the drugs... Some say being under the influence brings out the most sober of actions and thoughts.
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Post by hkblood on Nov 15, 2011 23:01:53 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]OPEN UP MY EAGER EYES, BECAUSE I'M MR. BRIGHTSIDE The Words: 559 The Outfit: this The Notes: I'll leave it to you to jump over to the morning She looked like a thousand suns; glowing, beautiful, vibrant, and what he needed to survive. At this moment, this princess was what he needed, wanted, lusted – the need to touch and be touched. The rush of blood, their skin mingling and glistening with sweat, both of their bodies gliding against each other. For hours into the night until they were both in their right mind again. This was the perfect place, tonight, who would find them? Would their cries of pleasure draw anyone near with curtains hiding the light and the door shut tight, locked from the inside.
She held his jaw with her hand and he kept his eyes on her. She seemed transfixed on his blue and his were transfixed on her own. Her finger traced his lips and his mouthed opened on impulse. She told him that she danced, he smiled, and they were both artists. They were both passionate about something – she would understand his dedication. Even when his father destroyed his art and made him feel like he was never good enough that his sister would have been better – he still turned to empty canvases.
So brush his lips and climb into his lap. He wanted to touch her and there was no longer any hesitation to stop him. His fingers traced her neck, her skin was soft, and goose bumps rose against his skin in the speed of a blink. Her skin was made of rose petals, elegant, fragile, and soft. His fingers found her bare arms and ran down them, fingers spread out, down to where her hands were at the bottom of his skirt.
So lift his shirt and take it off, Princess. She seemed mesmerized by the site of the art on his body, but she needed to feel his skin like he felt hers. His fingers found her elbow and quickly, lightly, ran their way to her soft, pampered, delicate hands. He held it, laced their fingers and brought her hand to his lips. A kiss for the princess, he brought her hand to his chest and left it there. His hand found the back of her head, and rested there.
He leaned in and kissed her lips gently, resting his forehead against her. Listen to her breathing, feel her hand follow the planes of his body – he kissed her again, urging her to open her mouth. When allowed in, he could not deny himself the pleasure to explore. He pulled her hair from the ponytail, dropping her hair tie to the floor. He let his hand go through her hair while he kissed her, he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to touch her, but he pulled away, back to sitting away from her.
“Princess, you are truly radiant in my eyes. I want nothing more than to bring you pleasure in as many forms as I can.” He spoke softly, but not in a whisper, it was just soft, sweet, and smooth, like chocolate on the saddest of days. He placed his hands at the bottom of her tank-top and glided it off of her, to kiss in between her collar bones and for his tongue to glide up her next.
He knew what he was doing and where he was going – tonight was one night stand he was sure would give him the sweetest dreams in retrospect.
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Post by steph2 on Nov 15, 2011 23:30:22 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] click for outfitHis skin felt like fire as she traced over the ridges, the art the swirled and danced. She could have sworn she saw the tattoos move or was she just too high off her ass to realize they weren't? Of course she knew where this was going. Sober or not, she knew one night stands all too well. It was the best way to receive some for of comfort through lonely nights-though she would never admit to being lonely. She had Candy, her prized Camaro. She didn't need anyone else. She ran her fingers through his hair when he pulled her own back a bit and after he spoke words that didn't fully register into her fuzzy mind, she smiled absently-too focused on the feeling of being pet like a kitten, "Shhhh," she said it quietly, wanting to focus on the touching. No more talking. They didn't need talking. She let her shirt be taken off and then let her tall pumps fall to the carpeted ground with two soft thuds. She ran her hands over and across his shoulders, digging them lightly into his back as if to press him for more before she pulled away from him completely, standing slowly. She was being a bit of a tease, and part of her told her to do so. In an agonizing way, she unzipped the back of her skirt and then let it fall down before she stepped out of it, sitting back on the couch she'd been on in her tiny matching black lace lingerie. She sat with her hair spilling over her thin shoulders, the length longer than anticipated since it's length was hidden with the pony tail. It reached her lower back and was one, of many things about her, prize and glory. It was a Russian thing-the long hair. Again, in the same slow pace, she opened her long, smooth legs as if inviting him over and all the while kept her eyes firmly on his own. The skag was more than she'd anticipated and she already knew, in the back of her mind, that from now on she'd be hooked to it. She'd be hooked to feeling numb until she was touched, to feeling like nothing bad could happen as long as she was floating on a pretty little cloud. She wanted to feel this euphoric all the time and not have to worry about the plan to take Charlotte's fiancee away. She didn't want to worry about Mama Bear giving her a firm smack in the face for messing something up and setting them back in their plans. She didn't want to worry about who was pounding into her or even what their name was. They were all always a blur anyway-at least she tried to keep them that way. She was tired of remembering all of Mama Bear's ex husbands and how they used her like a rag doll before tossing her aside and begging for her mother to take them back. This was what she was best at-sex. She didn't care if for one night tattoo guy screwed her senseless and as her heartbeat quickened at the anticipation aching inside her, she knew that in the morning-she'd care. She always told herself it meant nothing but when done, she always found herself wide awake, back turned to him, mind wandering into a million reasons why she should have just kept her legs closed. Hell, even Charlotte and Reese saw her as a slut and they were her best friends. Truth was, Svetlana didn't know how else to be. This was how she was raised. Sleeping with men was like a power struggle. As long as she showed her game face and pretended to feign indifference to their many tactics, she was the one on top, pun unintended. She'd let the drug dealer use her for the night but in the morning, she'd have to leave first. She didn't want to face him-just like she never faced the others unless instructed to do so. He would just became another blur in the sea of faces even if he suddenly meant the world to her tonight. In a couple hours, he'd just be another notch on her bed post.
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Post by hkblood on Nov 16, 2011 0:18:12 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]OPEN UP MY EAGER EYES, BECAUSE I'M MR. BRIGHTSIDE The Words: 437 The Outfit: this The Notes: and that's a wrap! She wanted to be a tease and he would let her. Seduce him with the curves of her body and her lingerie. Her skin glowed and his body hummed with need. She couldn’t be allowed to call all the shots. After all, she was probably feeling pretty good right now. With heroin pumping and now with the want to be satisfied sexually – or maybe she didn’t want it. Maybe she was just trying to do what he wanted, but either way he would be fine with it. However, if she was digging her nails into his shoulders and telling him to talk aloud than he was sure part of her wanted this too.
He approached the door and shut off the lights, he could hear the music and the party was still raging. He kept hearing this one guy scream on about how he didn’t know where he was or what was happening. Oh, drugs, they just gave people a euphoria they couldn’t get on their own. He was bringing them happiness. He was not doing anything wrong at all – he was helping them. Helping them and not destroying them. He didn’t corrupt Princess or destroy her perfect petals; he was helping her grow for the better.
He turned back to her and approached her with a grin. She was waiting for it and so was he. He would screw her senseless if she had any senses to feel at all. That couch would be better if it was a queen sized bed he could roll around in her with, but he would deal with what he had. Slinking down to her level, he connected with her in the way he had briefly thought about only a half hour before.
He didn’t know what time it was, but the crack and boom of thunder brought him to his senses. He listened for rain, but he heard nothing – it was heat thunder. Something bizarre and unexpected for November, but he was thankful for it. He needed to get out of here before she woke up. He writhed his way out of their entanglement and fished around for a source of light. Using her cellphone, he found his underwear, his pants, one sock, boot, the other sock in the other boot, and his shirt. After getting dressed as quietly as he could hopping around, he grabbed his bag, stuffed his weed, pipe, and put it on his back. The belt they used went back around his waist and he left her. High and dry without any way to find her again to give her what he now owed her.
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