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Civil Disobedience [18 Dec 2005|02:47am] “I don’t see what the big deal is, Mr. Lloyd! Just get the ... giant ... plier things and hop to it!” Stomp, point. The floor salesman of the General Store, a retirement age local wearing a flannel shirt and suspenders, gave a weary sigh and headed off to the stockroom. A string of muttered, “ain’t never heard of no’s” and “who ever heard tell of’s” accompanied his lumbering steps. It wasn’t often that the young ladies came in requesting lengths of heavy chain and a padlock. Especially ones such as Hannah Flynn. After Hannah fessed up to what she needed it for, he was even more flabbergasted. While she waited, Hannah shuffled her feet and inspected a bin full of nails. Not like she was gonna do any nailing anytime soon, in any sense of the word, but it beat staring back at Ms. Abernathy, who kept glancing over from the pet food aisle. Dawn stepped through the door and listened to the sound of the bell clang against the glass. Ah one of those old fashioned places. She wasn't surprised by now. Everything around here seemed to be small. Way smaller then any of the other places she had lived before. Not that she was living here. Nope. She put her sunglasses on top of her head and started to go back through the aisles to find what she was looking for. Laundry detergent. Hmm. That's what happened when you ended up staying longer then you planned. She blinked when she heard a loud commotion and couldn't help but peek around the aisle to see what was going on. Around the time Dawn poked her head around, Hannah was sifting through the bin of nails with a little scoop. “You know there’s some wrong ones in here, Mr. Lloyd?” she asked, peering into her hand. “See how this one's got a little, bitty head, and this one’s got a longer--” He frowned and smacked her hand out of the hardware. “Now hush, don’t you go causing a fuss.” He caught onto the newly brunette girl’s elbow and pulled her back to the wrapped chain. “’Bout how many feet you say you need?” He peered at her through his black-rimmed glasses. “Ow,” she mumbled, rubbing the knuckles he rapped on, then reluctantly turned attention to the arithmetic. It helped to use a tape measure, so she picked that up. “Well... I dunno, how many feet would you say I’d need?” Hannah leaned over and attempted to flex the metal strip around her ankles, to get an estimate of circumference. “You know, to wrap it around my ankles a coupla’ times, and maybe secure it to a pole?” From her bent over position, she looked up at him, red-faced from exertion. Mrs. Abernathy leaned around the aisle again, this time with a bottle of Windex in her hands. “What do you think?” The question, posed by Hannah, was directed at the newcomer with the sunglasses on her head. ( Erm..? ) ( We're in This Together ) ( Heck, No! We Won't-- *splat* ) ( Oh, Shit! Coppers! ) reply

Raw Power [18 Dec 2005|01:52pm] [ mood | flirty ] ------ Non Journal Entry ------ Fingertips dance over veins that are hidden beneath a thin layer of skin, thumb ghosts across pulse point and grip encases the slender neck that arches under his touch. She's responsive, body pressing against his and the music blasting out is irrelevant. Eyes sweep her from head to foot and dip lower until the slightest curve of breast can be seen. Fire builds and crawls its way through blood until head swims and interest broadens. Grip tightens, elicits a sharp gasp, until loosened and now a sigh is given. There's a brush across his thighs and the skin prickles automatically until hairs catch on denim and cling. She knows what she's doing, he can tell this by the look in her eyes and the smile on her face. If he was feeling any other way, he would never have approached her but he's feeling the way that he is and he doesn't want to be anywhere else. Palm flattens and runs length of bone before slipping past the part in shirt, another gasp is brought forth to her lips and then a soft groan escapes the back of her throat. His touch is driving her crazy; he can feel her sweat on his skin and all he feels is a thrill of having power over her. Hand leaves her skin and works back up to her neck where grip folds, head tips to one side and eyes continue to watch her. She parts her mouth, releases a breath as his thumb catches and presses down on her neck until all her head can do is move with his forceful touch. Disgust fills the pit of his stomach and a brief scowl mars his features. He's disgusted at himself, for wanting this, for wanting to feel everything she can make him feel. There was a time in his life when he would never have found himself in a club with a strange woman pressed up against him, a time when he would have wanted to talk, a time when it would have to be something more. As his nose touches and runs along the curve of her neck, he knows that those days are behind him. Relationships had never given him what he had wanted; he had tried and failed at them. Maybe it was better this way. Thoughts are silenced as his teeth catch skin and he feels her knees buckling, an arm works around and holds her in place as he continues to run his lips across her skin. The temptation is there, he craves the taste of her mouth on his, not because he loves her but because she's willing and able, because she's there and he knows there won't be any questions in the morning. Faces flash across his mind, the past haunts his every thought and he knows that no matter how much he wants this, he isn't that far gone ..yet. He tilts her head, runs an intent gaze across her face and then pulls her to him to kiss her slowly. A caress of lips not easily forgotten and one that is sure to remain on her mind for a while to come. He pulls away, tastes her on his tongue and smells her on every bit of fabric he's wearing. It's enough, it has to be enough. His grip loosens and without a glance over his shoulder, he turns and parts the crowd as he makes for the door. Both hands are pressed against the door to enable a quick retreat and soon he's leaning back against a wall in some dark alleyway that he's never going to remember with the thoughts he's been fighting whirling around his head. A soft chuckle leaves the back of his throat, catching the air, causing his voice to echo around the walls around him. If you didn't laugh, you could actually cry and Matthew's never been one to cry. Cigarettes are his shelter from the storm; one more is lit and placed to his lips. Thoughts burned away much like the healthy tissue in his lungs with each new drag on the cigarette. Smoke lingers, body retreats, just another empty spot where a man was once stood. reply

Welcoming Committee [18 Dec 2005|09:01pm] [ mood | rejuvenated ] “Could you just… If you wouldn’t mind… Please may I…” The child ran around her in circles, like a miniature elf in green jacket and red shoes. Maybe even Yoda, since all it was saying was “Just went flying I did!” Reverie felt the growing annoyance as she watched the child’s mother watching her and doing nothing. With a stumbled half step she managed to reach the conveyer belt that was carrying her bag and leaned over to get it. Only managing to retrieve it in time before the woman pushed past her to get her own. The startled gasp of, “Excuse me!” left Reverie before she turned on her heal, with the goal in mind that she’d now be leaving the hellish airport anyway in a few minutes. Just as soon as she found the exit. Not even getting two steps forward she halted when the burly man in a security uniform moved in front of her. A second one coming up to stand beside her with a fake grin. “Evenin’ Ma’am, if you’d just like to follow us for a routine baggage check before exiting the facility.” Her face fell, those always took at least ten minutes, and then there were all the questions that followed. Wasn’t it enough that she had been accosted by a woman with perfume in the duty free area? She had feared at the time that she would never be able to see out of her left eye ever again. With a weary sigh she nodded, following them both into their office where many screens with CCTV images all blinked at her. A mild look of disgust washed over her face on seeing a few empty cartons of Chinese left on the table where they placed her bag. “If you’d just like to hand over your passport to have it checked, and this’ll be over in a few minutes.” The smaller of the two smiled sweetly, his right eye twitching faintly. A forced smile was given from her as she slipped her passport out of her inside jacket pocket. He flicked it open and broke into a grin. “Often travel alone Ms Howell?” She gazed at the clock on the wall before answering, “You could say I’ve got itchy feet.” He gave her a bemused glance and she realised he had no idea what she was talking about. “Yes I like to travel.” "Any friends or family waiting on you ma’am?” Reverie raised her head to look at the bigger of the two who was rummaging in her bag much like a bear with a pick nick basket. She wanted to reach over and slap his hand when he got to her underwear, the dirty great brute of a man. “No can’t say there is, may I have my bag back?” She stepped closer to the table, avoiding the empty carton of Chinese as she placed her hand down. The chop sticks grazing her coat sleeve. “In a second sweetheart, now are you telling me that no one knows a pretty little thing like yourself is even here?” A soft chuckle came from the smaller security guard, who was standing to her side, a little in front. “That’s right.” She just wanted to get out, find a hotel and have a long over due bath. "In that case how’s about you join us boys for a bite?” Reverie stopped looking at her nails to give a frown, “What?” The word had barely left her lips as the smaller guard lunged at her, eyes flashing yellow and teeth glinting with his saliva. “Bugger.” It was whispered under her breath, jet lag and fatigue having slowed her senses down and caused her not to pay attention to detail. Damn it she knew better than that. With a grunt she managed to grab him by the scruff of his shirt and tugged him closer to her, throwing him off guard long enough to twist her arm around his head and hold him as she fumbled with the empty cartoon on the table. Fingers snatching up a chop stick. “Looks like we got a feisty one frank! I like it when they fight, gets that blood all pumpin’ faster.” Reverie struggled as the smaller one attempted to push her back against the wall, a soft angered growl leaving him. “She’s messin’ up my hair Dave, I’m wearing gel!” Reverie raised her eyes to the ceiling, “Oh for gods’ sake.” Dave’s laughter ending short as he watched her turn her face into Franks neck and bite down, swallowing as if she were chugging a soda. He struggled with a shriek but couldn’t get a grip of her properly, his body jerking as she drank but didn’t drain. His face paled, if that were possible considering his pasty complexion, and he rushed over with a roar escaping him. That was when the chop stick was thrown through the air and imbedded in his chest with complete precision. “Bit-...” He was dust before he could finish. Pulling Frank away from her she gripped his jaw with one hand and his hair with the other and twisted until the loud snap echoed in the room and he crumbled into dust also. Wiping her mouth and then straightening her clothes, Reverie then walked over to the table. Sorting the contents of her bag before zipping it up and walking out with it. The door being closed quietly. She strode towards the exit and pushed the glass door open, smirking at the dusk outside. “So this is the infamous Las Vegas… Thanks for the welcome.” Her whisper drifted in the wind as she walked over to the nearest cab and slid inside. reply

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