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It's not Wanda . I "show" words.
I am a girl from Canada
Total Views: 218,196, Joined: November, 2010
She nursed her beer indignantly throughout the opening act. She never drank beer. The taste made her gag like she was eating an unripe strawberry or a sour green apple. She straightened her back and stretched her neck to see the group take the stage. Like heat seeking missiles, her eyes locked on the fiddler. He wore his jeans so very well and the ends of his long hair flirted with his belt. In a Pavlovian response, her pupils dilated, and her lips parted slightly. She crossed her legs at her ankles and began making circles with her finger around the rim of the her beer glass, never once taking her eyes off him. The band members dealt the proverbial deck of jokes about the cold Canadian winter, and the sorely misrepresented use of “Eh.” Although they dubbed themselves a Rockabilly band, there was no twang to the upper New York State accents which resonated throughout the shabby chic bar. They all spoke, except for the fiddler. He had been busy tuning his instrument. Later he would tell her that he felt a restless entity swathing his mind and body which cued him to look up and meet her stare. As they began their set, she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. Her eyes secured on him, and his image was in the lock box of her gaze. He played, and played well only losing concentration occasionally to respond to her gleefully menacing stare. They finished their first set and left the stage. She slowly descended from her reverie, and jolted when an arm nudged hers. The waiter presented her with a piece of paper with a message. “Please wait after the next set if you can.” It wasn't signed. It didn't have to be.
Their dark hair blended and mingled in a sea of waves and curls. He closed his eyes and his long thick eyelashes almost glanced his high cheek bones. Those eyes that sparred with her fantasy and punched it in the core just hours before. His hand trailed down her torso and made her shiver when his fingers reached the small of her back. They danced on the small hollow there as they danced on the strings of his fiddle just hours before. He said that he would go crazy one day because the music was so close to his head. But when he played, he was in the only world he wanted to be in. She lit a cigarette for him rewarding him for what she thought was an insightful prevision. Then, in a comforting gesture, she bent over and kissed his lips, beating the cigarette to its landing site.
She swung her leg over his lower torso, and smothered his chest with her own. She softly kissed the corners of his mouth and felt his lips curve into a smile against her own. His tender touch was the insurance against any one night stand damage. Their bodies melted and blended into each other like paints being mixed. There was a flow and naturalness to this physical quilt.
She dragged the tip of her tongue slowly up from the base of his neck. It scaled over his strong jaw bone effortlessly and retreated back into her mouth as her lips launched a barrage of kisses on his wanting mouth. He took her tongue hostage and sucked on it vigorously like a hungry baby. She moved and writhed on him like a snake, hissing her anticipation. His hands traversed her body like nomads and scoped every curve and chord of her body revelling in, and exalting it for the exquisite instrument it was. With the synchronicity of dancers, the lovers opened their legs to celebrate each other. He slid into her with the ease of a hot knife sliding through butter as he was enveloped by her.
On a cold March night, the sounds of the city were suffocated by a heavy cold blanket of snow. The trees were outlined with the sparkle and bling of winter's attack. The white innocence of this winter shroud and the sedating silence of city catapulted every resident into a peaceful resignation.
The halcyon night was shattered by the ringing of a phone. She picked up the phone and could only hear crackling and static on the other end. The electronic storm was punctuated with human vocalizations that sounded like transmissions from another universe. She was able to discern one spoken word which cradled her into that cold night, and the cold months ahead.
-Written by Penny
May 24, 2013 █♥█