Fun and Games

Fun and Games


"could you take a look at your life, at your lovers, nothing ever changes"
-Stevie Nicks Nothing Ever Changes


His keys are missing again. Search the left, then the right. Pat down the back pockets, grope inside the coat. Winter has moved into the city, and it's only getting colder. "What the fuck?" He seethed, "Could my day get any worse?"
"Excuse me," she interrupted his one man conversation.
Barely a glance was given to her. His keys dangled in her fingers. "Are you looking for these? You dropped them a few blocks back."
He muttered a semi-sincere thanks, accepting the keys, avoiding the eyes of the helpful stranger.
She wondered if he would truly notice her. She gave him an aiding hint. "No problem, Joey," she quipped.
He'd quickly taken two steps, but his name on her tongue halted him. Curiously he turned, battling ebony strands from suspicious azure eyes.
"Hiya," the glossed rubicund lips parted into a loose smile on a face he recognized instantly.
He blinked once, focusing on her dancing tortoise shell eyes, nearly hidden by a black velour hat. January's snapping bite reddened her cheeks; tiny snowflakes getting lost in the flow of her tyrian hair. She had visited a bookstore. She held many copies of literary nonsense in her arms.
"How did you find me?" He immediately demanded. "I never told you how to find me."
She pointed a gloved finger toward his building. "Is this where you live?" Her smile remained sunny in the bleak weather.
She wasn't allowed an answer. He was invaded with disbelief; the metallic taste of discomfort pooling on his tongue. She didn't need an answer, anyway. She briskly walked past him, ascending the stone steps leading to the apartment he shared with a friend. He wanted to protest. He wanted an explanation. She offered him none, glancing back to him expectantly. "Are you coming?"
He became more adamant. "How did you find me, Rhiannon?"
"It's so cold tonight." She easily manipulated him with charmful, batting eyes. "Can't we talk inside...where it's warm. I've walked so far."
"Yes," he growled, "just stop with the eye tricks." He took the heavy books from her loaded arms, displaying unexpected chivalry.
"You're sweet to me," she gushed, all rosy with smiles.
His eyes darted to the ground as he forced the key into the icy lock. His stomach lurched, the sickening unease swelling into his clenched throat. She stood so near, she could easily touch him. He thoughtfully took a step aside, allowing her entry first, avoiding any of her personal contact for now.

"How bad could it be if you amuse yourself with me?"
KD Lang sexuality
"It's quiet," she noticed.
"Would you like me to blast some death metal? Or open a window so you can enjoy the noise on the streets?" He sarcastically offered. She watched him slump out of his coat, tossing it wherever it may land. She unzipped herself, removing her black gloves one finger at a time. The hat was removed last. She carefully smoothed the flyaway hair, whipping it behind casual shoulders.
He was annoyed by her obvious comfort. "So go ahead and make yourself at home," he chided.
She generally eyed the room, placing her coat across the back of a chair. He added the books to the same chair. "Where is your roomy?"
His shrug was indifferent. "I don't know."
"When will he return?" She inquired, pacing the small space, rubbing the lingering chill from her crochet sleeved arms.
Another shrug. "I don't know; I don't care." The fresh, peachy color of her skin was returning, but he noticed her shiver. He sighed, resigned. "Are you warm enough?"
She nodded, grinning small. "Yes, I am. I have never endured such brutal cold where I'm from."
He couldn't resist. He snatched her word. "Brutal, like me?"
A snicker escaped her. She shook her head endearingly, occupying her hands by smoothing out the thick burgundy skirt that trailed to meet charcoal velvet boots. Instead of fumbling with uncertainty, she boldly gazed upon him. "You look good."
"I know," he challenged.
He backed away when she neared him, her hand poised to touch him.
Her auburn brows furrowed. frustrated. "Don't be scared," she reassured him, lifting a hand again. "I only want to..."
He recoiled. "I'm not scared," he leered. "I just don't think you should touch me. I don't want you to touch me."
Her wide eyes slipped away, damp tendrils of red amber falling onto her cheek. "Oh," she breathed. "I don't understand. You act as if my touch will make you feel something. I know you won't feel anything."
"Nothing you say or do will change me," he bluntly informed her.
"Who wants to change you, Joey? I just want to go to bed with you." Her nonchalant blurt amused him, aroused him; the solicitous gleam in her narrowed eyes devoured him.
He toyed with her. "I'm not gonna sleep with you, Rhiannon. You can't separate your emotions from the act. I'm not going to purposely hurt you so I can get off."
Her eyes remained riveted to his. "I know the consequences. It's a risk i'm willing to take," she carelessly admitted.
"For one night?" he questioned. "That's a pretty bold risk for an emotional girl like you, isn't it?"
"Maybe this isn't about how i'm going to react. Maybe this is about you not finding me attractive." She baited irrationally.
He scoffed. "Don't start up with your illogical female accusations."
One step, two steps, another two, and she was clearly in his personal space. At least she kept her hands at her sides, however twitching. Her eyes drooped, her lips wet, parted. She whispered, "Show me...show me how it feels without all the complications of emotion...because I want you so bad.." Her fingers slid intimately across his tight locked jaw, searching his closed lips until he opened them slightly, tasting her touch.
"I know your feelings on kissing, but," A bemused grin lingered loosely at the corners of his pretty mouth. "I'll kiss you," he told her. Exhaling jaggedly, she replaced her fingers with her mouth. The savagery of his kiss awakened a beast she had laid to rest years ago. It stretched and groaned inside her, satiated with sleep, ready to live again.
"Oh woman, i don't want to hurt you," he kept repeating low and breathless under their hungry kiss. "You have to be sure..." because his own certainty wavered.

"wanna touch ya, wanna take ya, stupid girl...."
cold stupid girl

His hands tangled in the flow of her hair, tugging until her neck arched beatifully, inviting him to nip and feast. Shoving roughly into a bare wall, her breath seized, voice caught in a strangled, ecstatic moan of approval. Her ivory flesh tingled at the prospect of being uncovered in his presence.
Her scent, clean and woodsy, was a stimulation. Her tongue dominated his. Her hands roamed freely over his black clad groin, widening her eyes at the realization of his size, now fully hard and straining against the usually casual fabric. A lighthearted chuckle vibrated from the depths of his throat. "I'm so fucking ready for you, " he muttered, "but this is fun, 's k's keep it going."
He lead her, practically tripping, to the privacy of his darkened room; no interruptions, no sudden embarrassment of being caught in the act. He silently pushed aside blinds, spotlighting her undressing figure in winter moonlight. He watched, of course, a caged desire welling in him, threatening to free itself at the way she carefully stepped from her skirt, one shapely calf after another. He comfortably eased behind her, resting her onto his chest while he lifted the frilly feminine blouse she wore over her head. She shook her hair free from the pointless cloth. His placement supplied a wonderful view of her rounded breasts cupped into a velvety burgundy bustier. Instead of grasping the soft mounds, his patient fingers idily passed over her arms, her shoulders, slipping under the thin straps of her undergarment. Her arms lifted above her head, this time wrapping around his neck, arching further to wound into hissed sed hair. Her hasty breathing followed by the coo of his name did not affect him. No sappy heartstrings were tugged or manipulated; he just hungered for her body.
She closed her eyes. The straps were sliding down her arms at a tortuous slowness. Accidentally, or maybe not, his steady hand nudged her breast, and she nearly cried out, stifling her own voice with a bite of the lip. Expert hands began to unhook the clasps.
"Feeling inhibited? You don't seem the demure type," he teased into her unpierced ear.
"I thought we agreed feelings wouldn't exist tonight? And yes, i'm somewhat nervous. I want to respond to you, but i'm not sure what is acceptable to you."
The familiar chuckle vibrated off her bare shoulder, his tongue circling her silken skin. "I'll break you of that."
His small hips were grinding into her ass, covered by dark panties that illuminated her porcelain flesh. His gallant touch crept in, dipping a long finger into the hottest part of her, adding another, and yet another as she arched into him, wetting his entire hand, mocking his circular motion with her own hips. He busied his empty hand by filling it with her naked breast.
Her taut nipple became the object of affection. He probed and tugged skillfully, enjoying the surge and strain of her receptive form. Never did he neglect her other needy area, stroking and diving madly into her.
How could she not cry out over and over in her dizzy condition? She was on the verge of exploding into his palm. He sensed her driving urgency, sqhinghing it, removing his slicked fingers.
She whirled on him. "Why...why did you stop?" She quaked, voice trembling lustily. Foreplay became punishment, cruel and unwarranted.
He cocked a beguiling smile, shrugging. " I wanted to make you scream. I accomplished it, didn't I?"
"You are playing me like a game," she voiced. "Don't screw around. I'm not here for your entertainment only." She brushed his lips softly with hers.
The grin seemed lodged. "Yes you are. But i'll let you have your fun, too." He eyed her carefully. "Making you whimper was too easy. You don't get laid very often, do you?"
Adjusting her own prissy smile, she shoved him firmly, backing him into the chair he slumped in nightly to type his matter of fact speak to her. Fiestily, she straddled him in the squeaking seat, stripping him past the waist. She wildly writhed against him, explorative hands rubbing and soothing, but his face remained emotionless.
Everything ceased. Every movement, every sensation, every naughty, pleasurable thought dissipated. She casually untangled herself from his rigid lap, scooping up her heaped clothing.
"So that's it? That's all you got?" His evasive tone challenged her in the shadowy darkness.
She nodded, back to him, climbing into the prudish skirt. "Yep, that's all i got. I got a bus to catch."
His amused laughter rang out, almost taunting herk tok to his lap. She resisted calmly. Her shrewd calculating eyes scanned him among midnight lights. "The game's not over yet, but it's your move."
She walked purposefully to the door, snatching her coat and books. She didn't glance back to see if he followed because it wasn't his nature to chase tail. She let herself out, smiling satisfied. She passed a young man on her way down the stone steps, and she barely said hello.

"stranger than life is our fiction"
sarah Mclachlan, drifting