Still Life With Taylor
folder
Individual Celebrities › Vin Diesel
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
1,823
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Individual Celebrities › Vin Diesel
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
1,823
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know Vin Diesel. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
4
::FOUR::
Sit at the end of the bar, watching Christine. A lot of women will talk non stop. You shut them out. I know why most of these guys sit here, instead of out on the floor with the waitresses.
She knows what most of them drink, without even asking. Doesn't talk a lot. Waits til someone says something to her, and then, if you're that person, it's like there is no one else in the room. She looks right at you when you're talking. Isn't looking for a place in the conversation to start talking about herself. She doesn't stop what she's doing, but she pays attention to you.
Sure, the cocktail waitresses are more to look at, but that's all it is. More. Long dark green skirt this time. Same steel toed boots. T-shirt. Your red hair in a ponytail, falls almost to your waist. It's hard to not pay attention to Christine. She's graceful, and quiet. As though it didn't matter to her that anyone might be watching her. As though her actions are for herself alone. And because she doesn't insist that you notice her, you notice her more.
Didn't get handsy behind the bar, like the waitresses here do, when I stood in for the porter. She could have. She touched me enough. But it wasn't like she was all over me either. Didn't get ditzy about getting touched either. When we were busy, she never said a word to me. We worked like that for close to three hours. Neither one of us saying a word to the other, but in almost constant contact the whole time, behind the bar. Never been with a woman so quiet before, one that didn't make some sort of demand on you, one way or another.
Out for a cigarette when it got slow. Send the cook back to the kitchen, and sit behind you. Hit that knot between your shoulder blades right away, the muscles tight and sore. A gasp at first, your head coming off the table, your hair a deep dark wave past your knee. You relax again, letting out a deep purr that makes my heart skip a beat. I probably should have stopped right there. I wanted to make you make that sound again. Work your shoulders, your neck, working my way down your back, every breath you let out, that low, deep purr that I can feel, right through your back. A sound that makes my balls ache, that makes me wonder what you'd sound like if I touched you somewhere else.
You're thanking me afterwards doesn't help. Stay sitting til after you go back to the bar. Go and sit in the beer cooler for a minute so I don't walk out with a hard on.
Matty and some girl, pleasant enough, just always talking. A couple of other guys from the neighbourhood. Close the doors, shut the place down for the night. One of the cocktail waitresses stays, to take orders. She doesn't do much of it, before making herself comfortable, some guys hand up her skirt. Christine takes the order.
The waitress is halfway out of her clothes, and that's before the guy whose lap she's sitting on starts with the hands. You'd figure he had enough to deal with, with just the one, but he makes a grab for Christine, when she brings the tray out. She makes an effort at getting out of the way, but this guy grabs her ass. Hard.
Don't know why it made me so mad, but it did. The guy had let go before I even stood up. I guess he wasn't too drunk to realize he'd crossed a line somewhere. Matty's already apologizing to Christine. She says it's alright. It's not. To me. I just wanted to take her home.
"Are you coming back, Taylor?"
This from Matty, he looks concerned. Maybe he thought I was going to hit the guy.
"Yea, just need to do the drop."
A hard look. I don't want to talk about it. Christine's bagging the drop, at the end of the bar.
"I didn't think she was your type."
"Leave it alone, Matty."
I don't know what irked me more about it, that he said it close enough that Christine would hear it, or that, I hate to admit it to myself, he was right. Normally, it would be the easy waitress. Fuck their brains out, get done what you needed done, and get out. Something you didn't have to think about afterwards.
"If you crush my hand, it makes it hard for me to pour drinks, Taylor."
Halfway to the bank before I even realize I was holding her hand. Her voice brings me back. "Sorry." Let go.
"You don't have to let go. Just don't crush my hand."
Her green eyes glow gold under the street light. I know that I was angry five minutes ago. Looking at her, I can't seem to remember being angry, or anything else. It's like the stillness and quiet in her is something catching. I don't know if she took my hand, or I took hers, but I didn't let go until she got home. I can't remember the last time I just held a girl's hand.
She's standing on the first stair up to her apartment. I haven't let go yet.
"Thank you for saving me, Taylor."
Kiss on the cheek. I would have done more, but I couldn't move. I didn't know what to do with myself, a first. Ended up with my hands in my pockets, to keep me from doing something stupid with them. Watch as she went up to her apartment. The light goes on by the fire escape. Deep breath. Back to the bar.
Sit at the end of the bar, watching Christine. A lot of women will talk non stop. You shut them out. I know why most of these guys sit here, instead of out on the floor with the waitresses.
She knows what most of them drink, without even asking. Doesn't talk a lot. Waits til someone says something to her, and then, if you're that person, it's like there is no one else in the room. She looks right at you when you're talking. Isn't looking for a place in the conversation to start talking about herself. She doesn't stop what she's doing, but she pays attention to you.
Sure, the cocktail waitresses are more to look at, but that's all it is. More. Long dark green skirt this time. Same steel toed boots. T-shirt. Your red hair in a ponytail, falls almost to your waist. It's hard to not pay attention to Christine. She's graceful, and quiet. As though it didn't matter to her that anyone might be watching her. As though her actions are for herself alone. And because she doesn't insist that you notice her, you notice her more.
Didn't get handsy behind the bar, like the waitresses here do, when I stood in for the porter. She could have. She touched me enough. But it wasn't like she was all over me either. Didn't get ditzy about getting touched either. When we were busy, she never said a word to me. We worked like that for close to three hours. Neither one of us saying a word to the other, but in almost constant contact the whole time, behind the bar. Never been with a woman so quiet before, one that didn't make some sort of demand on you, one way or another.
Out for a cigarette when it got slow. Send the cook back to the kitchen, and sit behind you. Hit that knot between your shoulder blades right away, the muscles tight and sore. A gasp at first, your head coming off the table, your hair a deep dark wave past your knee. You relax again, letting out a deep purr that makes my heart skip a beat. I probably should have stopped right there. I wanted to make you make that sound again. Work your shoulders, your neck, working my way down your back, every breath you let out, that low, deep purr that I can feel, right through your back. A sound that makes my balls ache, that makes me wonder what you'd sound like if I touched you somewhere else.
You're thanking me afterwards doesn't help. Stay sitting til after you go back to the bar. Go and sit in the beer cooler for a minute so I don't walk out with a hard on.
Matty and some girl, pleasant enough, just always talking. A couple of other guys from the neighbourhood. Close the doors, shut the place down for the night. One of the cocktail waitresses stays, to take orders. She doesn't do much of it, before making herself comfortable, some guys hand up her skirt. Christine takes the order.
The waitress is halfway out of her clothes, and that's before the guy whose lap she's sitting on starts with the hands. You'd figure he had enough to deal with, with just the one, but he makes a grab for Christine, when she brings the tray out. She makes an effort at getting out of the way, but this guy grabs her ass. Hard.
Don't know why it made me so mad, but it did. The guy had let go before I even stood up. I guess he wasn't too drunk to realize he'd crossed a line somewhere. Matty's already apologizing to Christine. She says it's alright. It's not. To me. I just wanted to take her home.
"Are you coming back, Taylor?"
This from Matty, he looks concerned. Maybe he thought I was going to hit the guy.
"Yea, just need to do the drop."
A hard look. I don't want to talk about it. Christine's bagging the drop, at the end of the bar.
"I didn't think she was your type."
"Leave it alone, Matty."
I don't know what irked me more about it, that he said it close enough that Christine would hear it, or that, I hate to admit it to myself, he was right. Normally, it would be the easy waitress. Fuck their brains out, get done what you needed done, and get out. Something you didn't have to think about afterwards.
"If you crush my hand, it makes it hard for me to pour drinks, Taylor."
Halfway to the bank before I even realize I was holding her hand. Her voice brings me back. "Sorry." Let go.
"You don't have to let go. Just don't crush my hand."
Her green eyes glow gold under the street light. I know that I was angry five minutes ago. Looking at her, I can't seem to remember being angry, or anything else. It's like the stillness and quiet in her is something catching. I don't know if she took my hand, or I took hers, but I didn't let go until she got home. I can't remember the last time I just held a girl's hand.
She's standing on the first stair up to her apartment. I haven't let go yet.
"Thank you for saving me, Taylor."
Kiss on the cheek. I would have done more, but I couldn't move. I didn't know what to do with myself, a first. Ended up with my hands in my pockets, to keep me from doing something stupid with them. Watch as she went up to her apartment. The light goes on by the fire escape. Deep breath. Back to the bar.