Stephen King once called it "the hole in the paper." That special place where the writer goes, inside of the story, as if s/he is walking around as the observer of this manipulated life and event. With the advent of the computer and word processing, it's now "the hole in the monitor" but the sentiments are still the same. I am diving back into the world of Rick and Dave.
I thought maybe you'd like another small excerpt, fresh from the fingers. Still in its raw state, but an important moment in the story. Enjoy --
"Mine…mine. All mine. All mine. Never but mine. Mine."He rolled over onto his back, still muttering, and closed his eyes. I wanted to lay in his arms, hold him close, but something in his muttering told me that was the wrong thing to do right then. My body felt sticky and I needed to use the toilet, to release the spunk he'd left inside of me. I got out of bed quietly, leaving him to come back to himself.
I stepped into the large tub, pulling the shower curtain around, and turned on the jets overhead. It wasn't the rain shower I had in my bathroom, but it was nice. The water poured over my skin, washing off the sticky emission of my climax. My arse was a bit sore from the vehemence of his lovemaking and itched a little. 'Mine,' he'd kept muttering. Did my night with Niko really bother him that much? I’d gotten the impression that Rick was a playboy at heart – many lovers, never one exclusive. He never kept a woman for long, never gave all of himself to anyone. I never saw him with other men, never got the impression that he was interested in having other male lovers. Or maybe he was just that discreet and I never would.
I stepped out of the shower and toweled off. I hadn’t thought to bring anything to wear and decided it wasn’t worth it anyway. I wet two washcloths and brought them back into the bedroom. Whatever was going on in his head, Rick needed something. I meant to find out what was wrong. But first, I meant to heal it.
He hadn't moved an inch other than to spread his arms out to his sides. The residue of our lovemaking glistened on his skin but he made no attempt to do anything about it. He was staring at the ceiling, unblinking, his mouth set in a firm line. His chest rose and fell, long deep breaths that he held for a long time before releasing them. He looked lost, a condition that I had never seen Rick in and never expected to see. That was not the Rick I knew; this was not my friend. I felt a little lost myself.
I sat down on the bed and began to gently sponge his skin. He didn’t move a muscle as I cleaned the mess from his groin, laying his pink, perfect cock against the curve of his hip. I used the other washcloth to clean his belly and chest. He didn’t exactly hinder me from what I was doing but he didn’t help me either. He also kept silent, still staring at the ceiling. When he was clean again, I took the cloths to the laundry hamper and tossed them in. I poured us both another cup of coffee and another cognac and brought them into the bedroom.
With love,
Siobhan
No comments:
Post a Comment