Come What May-Chapter 2
Sep. 4th, 2004 09:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
axesladeyes, already! the muses are fast at work on this. I think I'm getting the Christian-like writing style pretty good.
Disclaimer: Same as last time.
Title: Come What May
Rating: R
Reasons: Sexual content/language
Genres: Romance/Drama/Angst
James stared at the paper for a moment after he put down the last word. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He stood up, walking over to the dresser in the hope there was just one drop of alcohol in one of the bottles. After tilting each and every one of them towards his mouth and coming up with nothing, he walked over to the window, leaning against the frame. True love. Ha. What a joke. How could one be truly in love with a girl who was little better than a courtesan? One could feel infatuation, lust, hunger. But never love.
He glanced at the wilted white roses, sitting in a wine bottle on the sill. They were the only thing truly tangible thing he had left of her. The only thing she'd touched, save his skin and clothes. There were pictures, of course, but he knew now that all her smiles were fake, all the times she'd kissed and fondled him were the actions of an amazing actress.
Then why did something keep drawing him to glance at that machine, begging him to put down what he knew was just as fake as those romances she'd read aloud to him when they were too tired to shag, too awake to sleep and his mouth was too sore to sing? Why were his fingers and heart twitching to relive those months, to put them down on paper so he could visit them any moment he wished?
Shaking away the thoughts that might have been the truth behind the yearning, James walked back and sat down, fingers dancing across the keys as smoothly as they did when they were made of ivory and ebony instead of metal.
*****
Our story began innocently enough, or as innocently as anything could begin back then. I was at one of her husband's shows, amazed that a glittering star like him would play at such a small club, and at such a low price. Sometimes I think fate was putting her hand in things, for I know now that Brian's manager never would have allowed him to play for so little, a greater force had to be at work.
I wonder as well if fate intervened in my choice of hair colour. Mandy told me later that was what drew her to me, the flash of green in the crowd. I could have gone for something more subdued, a deep red to bring out my eyes, for instance. But I chose neon green, and thus drew the Divine Miss Mandy Slade to me, the tragic flame to the beautiful moth.
I remember little of what I said then, I was so flustered that this woman, the wife of the man I adored, was talking to me. I remember her asking if I wanted to come back with her and Brian for a 'party' after the show. Of course I said yes, who wouldn't have?
Brian, at the time, seemed incredibly intoxicating. Now I view him as unbelievably trashy. Both of them were, kissing and petting me when they'd only known me a few minutes. The ride to their hotel was uncomfortable, they were giggling and drinking champagne from each other's mouths the whole time. The second we got in, Brian started undressing and Mandy took us into the main room. People were having sex all over the place, if there'd been a chandelier I'm sure they'd have been hanging from it and going at it there as well, so no one noticed us.
Now, I view the loss of my virginity as a nasty thing. All three of us were naked, rubbing against each other, and Mandy was pretending she'd never been with anyone like me, swooning and shivering the whole time. She left me with Brian for a time, and then I was fucking him while she fucked me with a dildo hung from a sling around her waist. When we were done they spoke to me as if they actually cared, when I knew I was just another groupie to them. They were both unbelieveable, giggling and petting all the time. I had to leave, I couldn't stand the place. The smell of sex hung everywhere. I remember, as I left, seeing the two of them look at each other and her laying back, his mouth on her cunt. And even after this sight, I still wanted her. This beautiful butterfly. I couldn't bear the thought of him pinning her in a book for display. I knew I had to capture her, even if it meant having to release her in a field. Just so I could always lay in the grass, watching her flutter about and being content with those few moments when she landed on me.
Disclaimer: Same as last time.
Title: Come What May
Rating: R
Reasons: Sexual content/language
Genres: Romance/Drama/Angst
James stared at the paper for a moment after he put down the last word. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He stood up, walking over to the dresser in the hope there was just one drop of alcohol in one of the bottles. After tilting each and every one of them towards his mouth and coming up with nothing, he walked over to the window, leaning against the frame. True love. Ha. What a joke. How could one be truly in love with a girl who was little better than a courtesan? One could feel infatuation, lust, hunger. But never love.
He glanced at the wilted white roses, sitting in a wine bottle on the sill. They were the only thing truly tangible thing he had left of her. The only thing she'd touched, save his skin and clothes. There were pictures, of course, but he knew now that all her smiles were fake, all the times she'd kissed and fondled him were the actions of an amazing actress.
Then why did something keep drawing him to glance at that machine, begging him to put down what he knew was just as fake as those romances she'd read aloud to him when they were too tired to shag, too awake to sleep and his mouth was too sore to sing? Why were his fingers and heart twitching to relive those months, to put them down on paper so he could visit them any moment he wished?
Shaking away the thoughts that might have been the truth behind the yearning, James walked back and sat down, fingers dancing across the keys as smoothly as they did when they were made of ivory and ebony instead of metal.
*****
Our story began innocently enough, or as innocently as anything could begin back then. I was at one of her husband's shows, amazed that a glittering star like him would play at such a small club, and at such a low price. Sometimes I think fate was putting her hand in things, for I know now that Brian's manager never would have allowed him to play for so little, a greater force had to be at work.
I wonder as well if fate intervened in my choice of hair colour. Mandy told me later that was what drew her to me, the flash of green in the crowd. I could have gone for something more subdued, a deep red to bring out my eyes, for instance. But I chose neon green, and thus drew the Divine Miss Mandy Slade to me, the tragic flame to the beautiful moth.
I remember little of what I said then, I was so flustered that this woman, the wife of the man I adored, was talking to me. I remember her asking if I wanted to come back with her and Brian for a 'party' after the show. Of course I said yes, who wouldn't have?
Brian, at the time, seemed incredibly intoxicating. Now I view him as unbelievably trashy. Both of them were, kissing and petting me when they'd only known me a few minutes. The ride to their hotel was uncomfortable, they were giggling and drinking champagne from each other's mouths the whole time. The second we got in, Brian started undressing and Mandy took us into the main room. People were having sex all over the place, if there'd been a chandelier I'm sure they'd have been hanging from it and going at it there as well, so no one noticed us.
Now, I view the loss of my virginity as a nasty thing. All three of us were naked, rubbing against each other, and Mandy was pretending she'd never been with anyone like me, swooning and shivering the whole time. She left me with Brian for a time, and then I was fucking him while she fucked me with a dildo hung from a sling around her waist. When we were done they spoke to me as if they actually cared, when I knew I was just another groupie to them. They were both unbelieveable, giggling and petting all the time. I had to leave, I couldn't stand the place. The smell of sex hung everywhere. I remember, as I left, seeing the two of them look at each other and her laying back, his mouth on her cunt. And even after this sight, I still wanted her. This beautiful butterfly. I couldn't bear the thought of him pinning her in a book for display. I knew I had to capture her, even if it meant having to release her in a field. Just so I could always lay in the grass, watching her flutter about and being content with those few moments when she landed on me.