The winding circle

Published by poisoned_apple in the blog poisoned_apple's blog. Views: 49

It had been a long and arduous day. The rain ticked and splattered on the shop windows. Where was she going? Home of course, where else? Oh, but one wouldn't hurt, she thought to herself, just the one and then off home, the train would be late today.

The local barflies hung around, humming their same old conversations, drawling on about nothing in particular. What a waste of a life she thought to herself, sitting in the same old bar every day. She liked to watch them all the same. The sight of them in their wrinkled clothes with their unkempt hair and unshaven faces, what a sorry sight they are, she would chortle quietly.

sooner or later he would appear, as he did most days, looking for her as he opened the door, cautious of the men on stools quietly making love to their pints. He would see her, they would talk, and then she would finish her drink and leave, of course.

As predicted there he came, through the doors searching for her, though all the while knowing exactly where she would be. He smiled and approached. sitting on the seat to her right and folding his jacket in a slap shod sort of way he asked about her day.

When she spoke to him he seemed to listen, though she was almost certain he could not have cared less about whatever it was she had to say. His eyes always searched her body, as though for wanting some answer to some secret she was unaware he had heard of. This made her slightly uncomfortable to begin with, but over time she had come to accept it as his way.

Entering the bathroom she felt warm and heady. Pressing her face to the tiles for comfort. She often took pleasure in the solace provided by the two doors that separated her from the drone of the barflies. Looking into the mirror she saw her makeup had begun to fade and bleed in places. She attempted to fix it with a dampened tissue, but each time she approached the mirror to examine herself she seemed blurred somehow, i must get my eyes examined she thought.

Walking back into the bar she stumbled and fell, some stupid person put their chair in front of me, how inconsiderate! She glanced about sharply at those to left and right of her, trying to identify the guilty party, but to no avail. Looking up she saw her companion, a slight grin adorned his otherwise placid face, he must think me such a fool she thought, a jester perhaps! ha ha.

Are you alright? he asked her, still seeming somewhat amused. She grimaced. He had ordered her another glass, just what she needed to cool down and unwind from her embarrassment. How thoughtful of him. As he slipped the glass carefully into her hand his fingers caressed her own quite purposefully. His eyes still searching her as he moved closer, she could feel his hand pressed to her shoulder.

As his hands slid up her dress, lifting it over her head and arms gazing at every passing inch of her body against the blood red sheets. Her pale skin, soft and warm, the soothing motherly curve of her hips, the rise and fall of her gentle breathing chest, the steady flow of blood passing through the vein in her neck like a small drum beat and the way her lips slightly parted when her eyes firmly closed. A sight he enjoyed often. He lifted her limp body from the waist and removed her underwear. Her lips were wet and inviting when he kissed them.

When she woke alone with the sunlight burning through the curtains, filling the room with a pink glow, her head throbbed, her back ached and her mouth was dry and potent. A faint and lingering scent of Guinness hung in the cold air. Oh god where am i? She searched for some familiar place or object, then he appeared and all at once she became suddenly aware of her nakedness. You should get dressed, he said, pointing to a chair covered partially by her sprawling of clothes, we'll be leaving in about fifteen minutes. Then he was gone.

Each time the train jerked uneasily around a corner or bend she felt her insides writhing with discontent. They did not speak, he no longer searched for any hidden secrets, and his gaze met only that of the speckled linoleum floor.

It had been a long and arduous day. The rain ticked and splattered on the shop windows. Where is she going? Home, of course....
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