Tuesday, February 7, 2012

A Little Scene-age

So this is a scene I'm working on for my next workshop piece. I have other scenes, but thought I'd tease a little and just give you pieces at a time. I'd love comments and suggestions and I hope ya'll have as much fun reading this scene as I did writing it!

There may come a time, you just can’t seem to find your way, For every door you walk in to, Seems like they get slammed in your face. That’s when you need someone . . . let it be me. The music moved softly around us, filling the silence that had become uncomfortable with unasked questions.
“Fo. Florence.
            “Don’t call me Florence, Ren. Just, don-“
I reached out and cupped her blushed cheek. She moved her green eyes up to meet mine and let out a soft sigh. I moved my thumb slowly under her eye and went to pull away when she clasped onto my wrist; her eyes had never shared this sort of need with me before. She moved my hand so that my palm faced up and slowly traced from the thin, blue veins on my wrist to the edge of my fingertips and back again; I closed my eyes and mentally told myself to steady my breathing.
            “Ren. Ren! Lawrence.” I slowly opened my eyes, expecting a raised eyebrow and mocking smirk, but instead found myself watching the pupil of her eye dilate and then retract. I could feel her sweet, sticky breath reaching my skin and I attempted to pull back a fraction to better read her face, but she clutched the back of my neck and brought our mouths together. I could taste the bitter dryness of the red wine on her soft lips and then felt every inhibition I ever maintained fall to the ground when her tongue asked mine to dance. I moved my hands down to her waist and touched the delicate skin of her belly; hesitatingly I lifted up the thin material, expecting refusal, but receiving soft murmuring instead.
            “Now, Ren. Please, now.”
I roughly grabbed the material of the shirt and raised it above her head; her hands left my body just to aid in the removal of the only layer guarding her torso from my hungry fingertips. I pulled away to take her in, to take her goose bumped, purple and teal tinged skin in, to memorize the artwork lining her canvas, to memorize her beautiful, delicate frame. Once layers were removed, we crashed into each other and she traced a line from my mouth to my belly button with her warm, moist tongue and I couldn’t help but allow a gasp escape my throat. As she kissed her way back up to my face I cradled hers in my hands then swiftly picked her up, removed unnecessary layers, and stopped to quiet the trembling of my limbs.
            As I hovered over her body and struggled to hold my own weight up, she glanced up at me, smirked, and wrapped her delicate limbs around me; as the air around us grew thick and heavy and our breathing created a whispered symphony, I softly grazed her skin with my teeth, I tenderly wrapped locks of her hair around my fingers, and I let a desperate breath escape me as the minute spaces between us were depleted.
Is it sexy and you know it?
-Stephi D.

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