A quick glimpse : Champagne
Author's note : I am trying to apply writing discipline recently. I have set out daily writing goal. Mostly, I focus on my weekly writing task that is assigned by an independent editor and write my other idea in between. Since this week's task is absolutely, ridiculously, hard...or is it just my mood, but I am pretty upset that I cannot achieve today's goal. So I continue a bit of my own writing instead. Consider this a preview of my potential published idea ;) a bit saucy, yes?
After thirty minutes of self-pampering, I am dressing myself in a plain white tee, a ladyboxer and the hotel robe. The space is all for me. The dome-like ceiling with chandelier hangs from top and the complementary couple glasses of champagne on the coffee table. It turns out to be chilled fruity malt, but I really do not mind. It is refreshing enough for me. There are other items laid on the table—next to the champagne glasses. A marble rose and a greeting card. A pretty well written one that makes me laugh. And as for the marble roses, they are pretty. But they just do not belong here. They belong into the trash bin. So, I push the bin pedal down on my feet. The moment it creaks, the front door is creaking open.
I turn my head where I see Rush stumbling on his feet. I have never seen him like a joker. But he has a big wide smirk on his face. And, I think it is a nice time to show him some humor that I found on the card.
“Do you know who Mr and Mrs. Winters are?” I present the card in front of his eyes. “I think we are staying in somebody’s room.”
My cackle stops when he chases my breath in one hasty inhale. I can feel his breath from my mouth. A tender yet drunken air that is pushed out from his lung. Before he captivates me any longer, I drove him away. I put my palm at his chest and drag him few inches before me.
He shuts me again. This time move aggressive. He chokes me in. Until I only speak of any word but his presence inside me. He finds me refusing, so he sinks his teeth deep down in my tongue. I creep the moment I taste the rustic drips washing down my throat.
“Take my clothes off.” He said calmly.
“What?” I respond in the other way around.
“Take mine or I will rip yours.”