Better Than Burroughs

The Next Morning
Callum

I sleep for maybe four hours before I wake up. My body may be exhausted, but my mind just won’ shut down. The sun isn’t up yet when I open my eyes and Marin is no longer curled up against my chest. She’s spread out on her back beside me, one of her legs hooked over my calf. Sitting up, careful not to wake her, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. I stretch my arms above my head and my shoulder pops. It tears a sigh from me. It’s sore afterwards but I ignore it.

I stand at the foot of the bed and stare at her. I want to remember this forever. This look to her. She is nothing short of ethereal. The sheet is partially covering her breasts, the right nipple making itself known. Her skin is soft and I can feel its memory on my fingers, the texture and warmth. With her eyes closed, I notice the length of her eyelashes. They’re naively long and curl up naturally. I study her face, my head tilted to the side. Her nostrils flair slightly with every few intakes of breaths. Her cheeks are lightly flushed, her lips parted. I want to kiss her. Her hair is dark and messy from rolling around, little hairs straying to wrap around her neck.

Her left arm is raised beside her head, her hand shoved underneath the pillow. Her other arm is lying across her stomach, her fingers curled under a little. Looking at her, I can’t not think that she’s mine. That her sole purpose on this earth is for me to torture. I can live the life I was always supposed to live through her. I’m supposed to fuck up. I’m meant to make her cry, make her feel pain. I’m in her life to kill her naivety. To think that I will have the same role in her life that she will have in mine would require my thinkin’ a lot more highly of myself.

Kneeling down, I drag a pad of paper from beneath the bed, along with a plastic bag of black and sanguine charcoal. It takes me a few seconds to find a knead eraser under there but I do. It’s so old that it will barely pick the charcoal up but I’m too lazy to go downstairs and get a new one. I grab my underwear off the floor and put them on, not needing charcoal where it shouldn’t be.

The sheet is thin and shows all of her curves. Her full hips and the bend of her knee, her spread thighs and that waist I so enjoyed gripping. Gentle sitting down at the foot of the bed, I set up the pad on my lap and feel that familiar rush of starting something new. All the possibilities that I’m sure to crush the second I lay the form down and decide. I don’t feel that crushing this time. I only feel the rush. I draw quickly, wanting to get down every single shadow. She occasionally shifts in her sleep, creating a new angle and a complete new image.

Her face is perfect in charcoal and I don’t take any artistic liberties with her image. I draw her how I see her. I don’ embellish or dilute anythin’. I see nothing to change anyway, even if I had wanted to.

After three images have been drawn and torn off to lie on the floor, I pull down the sheet, exposing her naked torso completely. I keep pulling and stop right past her pelvic bone, keeping some of her modesty intact. I oddly feel the need to ask her permission to draw her completely. I feel like a voyeur. A sexual deviant even though this isn’t sexual. Yes, I’m a man and it’s incredibly impossible to not be aroused by her body, but I’m not concentrating on that. Tryin’ anyway.

I smooth the charcoal, creating her belly button, and smile at her. Reaching forward with my free hand, I smooth my hand up her stomach and between her breasts. My hand leaves a muted black smear across her skin.

I obsess over her lips and her ear, noticing how perfect her lobes are for earrings. She turns over on her side, bringing herself closer to me and bends her knee to bring it close to her chest. It’s a very revealing pose but she looks so delicate. I start a new picture.

An Hour Later

“I don’ know what the fuck ta do, mate,” I groan, my palm pressing into my eye. The curb is hard beneath me as I stare out at the street. I couldn’t even sit down in the store, I had to come outside and sit on the filthy concrete. I should have stayed in bed with her when I woke. I shouldn’t have drawn her. As I was finishing the last picture, there was this tightening in my chest and I had to get some air. I hardly bothered ta get dressed, leaving me sitting in the parking lot with pants but no shirt and cell phone in hand. I called Deck. I don’t really know what for.

“What are ya thinking?”

“I don’t even fuckin’ know anymore.”

“Do you have feelings for this girl?”

“Of course.”

“What’s the bleedin’ problem?”

“This terrifies me.”

“Listen, Spud. All I can tell ya is ta take this a day at a time. Don’ get yer balls in a tumble over ‘what ifs’.”

“What if it was all just fer the chase?”

“Guess ya won’t know till ya go back up there and find out.”

Of course he’s right and I’m being ridiculous for nothing. The idea of all the feelings fading because I got what I wanted is horrifying. I don’t want ta be that guy. Not to her. I don’ want her to regret me. I’m having a panic attack already though and that just does not bode well for either of us. I was looking at her in my bed and it suddenly seemed so damn…family-like that I had to get out. We’re living together for fuck’s sake! I can’ live with the girl I’m fucking. I’m sure as hell awake now.

Last night was…indescribable. She was amazing. Everything was more or less the same as it’s been in the past. The sex wasn’t shockingly different when it came to movements and the sounds were generally the same. But the way it all felt was nothing like it’s been. Not even similar. It was as if every sexual encounter I’ve had in the past were all being pushed through a filter that I hadn’t realized was there until she took it away.

Being inside her was the closest I’ve ever felt to oblivion. Every move she made was beautiful. Every arch of her back and the curve of her breasts. Her lips wrapping around my name. I’m stuck in the memories of last night and vaguely register Deaglan talking over the phone. I’m hard with the memory of the way she tasted.

“Deck, I’m leavin’. I’ll ring ya later.”

I don’t wait to hear his farewell, I hang up and hurry inside the store and up the stairs. When I walk in, all the air in my lungs gets pushed out at the sight of her standing in the kitchen, a glass of water in hand. She’s wearin’ one of my t-shirts with nothing on her legs. Those legs that feel so fuckin’ wonderful around my waist.

“Are you alright?” she asks, setting the glass down on the counter, a look of worry on her face. I can tell that she’s doubting herself, doubting how I feel about the night before. I want nothing of the sort to be going through her mind. I should have stayed in bed with her. I didn’t even think about how she would feel about waking alone. I’m such a bleedin’ prick. Whatever problems I may have, now isn’t the time to panic. I’ll just push it all away until I have an attack. I almost look forward to it.

Walking up to her, I take her head in my hands and kiss her before she can say anything more. She hasn’t brushed her teeth and her mouth is cool from the water. The fact that she hasn’t done anything is a turn on. She hasn’t taken a shower and washed away the traces of me.

She responds eagerly and her nails scratch down my chest. I still have imprints on my thighs from her nails the night before. It’s only fair. I’m sure I bruised her a bit. I move my hands from her head, down to her thighs and slide them underneath the shirt. I walk forward, pushing her against the counter, my hand slipping between her thighs to find she’s not wearing underwear. She’s already so wet and a rush of masculine pride goes to my head.

“What were you thinkin’ of?” I tease her, pressing my finger against her clit. She makes a gasping noise in her throat and I kiss her again. Her fingers are digging into my arms and her hips thrust against my palm. Her lips are dry and she smells how beauty must.

Marina
That Afternoon

The entire day has been spent in suspended pleasure. My body is humming and I feel like I’m glowing for the entire world to see. I can’t even comprehend what life was like before this.

“Are you going to open up shop today at all?” I ask him, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’s willing to break away from this. When I woke this morning, he wasn’t with me, which really confused me. He wasn’t anywhere. I looked down in the store, thinking he was maybe working, but he wasn’t. I had started to worry that he regretted coming to me the way he had. When he did come back though, from where I don’t know because I never got the chance to ask, he seemed fine. He hasn’t been acting strangely or anything. He’s been very…eager to explore this new aspect of our relationship.

“The world will have ta do without for the day,” he grins, his hands lazily smoothing up and down my calves. The mattress is so soft beneath me and I never want to sleep in another bed but his. He’s sitting up with his legs folded, leaning against the wall, my legs falling over his knees to either side of his hips. The way I’m laying would have been very exposing if I were still naked but I put a pair of PJ pants on a little bit ago because my legs were starting to get cold. I haven’t made it far enough to put a shirt on though. He seems to like looking and I love the free feeling I get from just laying around half naked all day.

His hands slide up as far as they can from beneath the material and it spreads warmth throughout my body. Lifting my arms into the air, they feel so loose and I let them drop heavily to my sides. He laughs and I lift my head to look at him. He’s so stunning. His smile is so wide that his eyes squint and his stomach looks so inviting. I ache to touch him. I love the feeling of his skin and the muscle beneath. It would be such a perfect time to just tell him that I love him. It would be so easy to just say it but I can’t. I just keep quiet. I’m a big chicken.

“So…was it worth the wait?” I ask with a smile, my voice kept light even though I’m actually rather curious as to the answer.

“Yes,” his answer is simple and honest and I was expecting something sarcastic. I’m glad for the surprise. His hands grip my waist and he pulls me closer to him, lifting my butt up to rest on his lap. The position is interesting and I laugh. My hips are thrust up and he grabs my wrists, tugging me up to sit up in his lap as he stretches his legs out. I hold onto his shoulders and enjoy the feeling of his skin. This is reminding me of last night and the way he held me and I can’t stop myself that familiar ache that settles between my legs. I drop my forehead to rest against his and we just stare at each other for a few seconds.

“You’re not going to ask me if you were worth the wait?” I ask.

He scoffs and runs his hands along the sides of my breasts. His touch is light and it tickles a little but not enough to make me squirm. My stomach suddenly rumbles loudly and I lean back, holding my hands to my belly.

Callum pats my butt and pushes me to the side so I fall off his lap. He gets up and walks over to his dresser, opening a drawer and immediately shutting it again. When he begins to head for the stairs, kneeling on the bed, I ask, “Where’re you going?”

“My bags are down in the store. I’ll get some food,” he answers, looking back at me. I can’t help the pout that forms at the idea of him leaving and he grins.

Walking to stand in front of me, he kisses me softly with his hand on my neck, “Don’t move. I won’t be long.”

I watch him walk away and disappear down the stairs. I don’t move as I listen to him walk across the living room and leave, the front door clicking shut behind him. Glancing at the bed beneath me, the sheets are rumpled and it’s obvious people have been having sex here. I know I’m smiling like an idiot but I can’t help it. I feel amazing. Completely energized. I’m so happy right now and I hope Callum comes back soon. I hate being away from him and I don’t want to waste any more time not being with him. I feel like I’ve already wasted so much.

Getting up off the bed, I grab the hospital gown from the floor, as well as any other clothes I can see. Wanting to keep my mind occupied while Callum is gone, I decide to do some laundry. Heading downstairs, I make a stop in my room and find more dirty clothes. I put a plain t-shirt on before I head down to the store to find Callum’s clothes from his trip.

Callum

“Thank you, have a great evenin’,” I say, taking the paper bag from the elderly woman. I have no fuckin’ clue if Marin has ever eaten at this place but they make the best egg drop soup and I know she loves the stuff. I adore this place. They can make anything vegetarian. Absolute fuckin’ brilliant food.

I’ve been gone for a good thirty minutes and I’m thankful to be on my way back. I called and ordered the Chinese food while I was gettin’ some apple fritters from the bakery around the block from my flat. I’m such a damn sap. Walking quickly, I’m thankful for the hot food warming my hands. The weather just keeps gettin’ colder. I fuckin’ love it. Ducking inside a small convenience store, I buy some large bottles of raspberry ice tea.

I just want ta see the girl happy. I want to see her smile. It’s disgustin’ how much I crave her happiness. I know she didn’ want me to leave, even for food, but I need to get out for a bit. I needed to breathe. I’m afraid if I allow myself, I’ll never want to leave the flat. It’s too fuckin’ easy to forget about myself when I’m with her. The subject of our living situation will have to be pondered but not now. Not now.

Marina

I did one load of laundry but the store was too cold, so I retreated back upstairs. After turning the heater on, I put on some music and curled up on the couch with a book and a blanket.

After ten minutes into some George Orwell, the front door opens and I turn my head to see Callum kicking his shoes off and shutting the door.

“Where did you go?” I ask, looking at the three bags in his hands.

Without answering, he walks into the kitchen and I set the book down to follow after him, taking the blanket with me. Coming up behind him, I wrap my arms around him, covering his arms with the blanket, and kiss between his shoulder blades.

His head drops, his chin to his chest, and his hands move around to squeeze my butt. I smile against his back and enjoy the feeling of him. He pulls me around to stand beside him, “Food first.”

I nod and watch him begin to pull things out of the bags, spreading everything out on the counter. I can’t believe to all the trouble he went to. After a few minutes of watching him opening containers, I gather that he’s been to a Chinese restaurant, as well as buying raspberry ice tea for me and some apple fritters for desert. I think this is possibly the sweetest thing ever.

I watch him pull some bowls down from the cupboard and he peels the lid off of a rather large container. Steam pours out and the delicious aroma of my favorite soup fills the kitchen.

“How did you know?” I ask, kissing his shoulder.

“I pay attention.”

The Next Day
Callum

The store is unnaturally busy. Where did these fuckin’ people come from? I hand sixty-four cents over to a pierced teenage girl wearin’ a Ramones shirt. She’s dyed her hair one too many bloody times and it looks horrid. One of her friends needs to show her a fuckin’ mirror. Although at her age, you’re only friends share your taste. Utterly appalling taste. The Ramones are absolute shite.

The girl leaves and I turn back to my book. A ratty copy of The Accident. However, it’s hard to concentrate when two kids are bitching at their mum. I reach down below the counter and find the CD player, turning the music up a little to drown out the screaming. It doesn’t really work. The music isn’t rambunctious enough. Setting the book down, I slide off the stool and onto my knees. Pressing the eject button, the tray slides out and I remove Julie London. Unzipping the thick CD case, I trade her for Taraf de Haïdouks and I’m not too gentle with putting the disk in the player. It’s an old CD, it’s already scuffed up, a little tough love isn’ gonna hurt it. Skipping ahead to Absinth I Drink You, Absinth I Eat You, I resurface and freeze.

The dancer from the Plexiglas box is standing in front of me, the counter between us. Barbie? Kirsten? Christine? It’s Christine. What in the fuck is she doin’ here? I didn’ actually think she’d want a bloody job. I don’t want an employee.

She sets her small purse down between us and smiles, “Hey there! How’ve you been?”

“Fantastic and yourself?” I ask. Her voice is freakishly chirpy and it throws me. She looks tired and a little washed out. She’s not dressed the way I would have assumed she would. I can’t see what she’s wearing from the waist down but judging by the generic blue t-shirt, I’m guessing they’re jeans. Her red hair is pulled into pigtails, which few women can pull off and she’s not one of them. She’s really dressed down and I would never guess that she pleases strangers for cash. She looks rather…plain out in the real world. It’s disappointing. However, she does manage to pull off that save me look.

"I'm not here to take you up on that pathetic offer of yours, but I am here about this," she says, not answering my kind inquiry as she unzips her purse and pulls a Polaroid out, handing it to me. Looking at it, I still don't get what the fuck she wants. It's a shitty photo of the sketch I drew of her.

"What about it?" I ask, handing it back over.

"I have a friend who knows this chick who’s an art dealer. He saw your picture and thought she'd like it and she does. She wants to meet you."

"Kept it around, huh?" I smirk.

"It's of me, as if I would throw it out," she shrugs.

"No."

"No?"

"No to the dealer. Not interested." The last thing I fuckin' need is some rigid art dealer crawling up my arse makin’ foolish demands.

"She's not exactly easy to get a meeting with. You're crazy to turn the opportunity down!" she insists.

"I appreciate your doing this, for whatever bloody reason, but honestly, not interested."

She pulls a card from her pocket and sets it down, "This is her card. Rethink it cause where are you getting working here forever?"

I ignore the blatant rudeness. Her assumptions are completely wrong. She's assuming I just work here as an employee and that I barely manage to keep myself funded. That's fine with me.

"Don't fool yourself into thinking you're too good for this. It's just a drawing," she says, making it very clear that she's pretty much done with me. She doesn't take her time leaving and it’s amazing how different she seems out of her Plexiglas box. I can’ fuckin’ get over it.

Nita McKellen. I stare at the card and the woman’s name. I brush it to the side and go back to my book. I should just throw it out but for some reason I don’t want to. If I do, the chance will be gone completely. I don’t know, maybe I should give the bird a call. Would it be so terrible? The art out there is complete bullocks and not that I’m so fucking brilliant, but I’m better than that lot. Do I want to be in the same bag as them?

“Do you have Only Revolutions by Daniel…something?” a man asks, drawing my attention away from the card.

“Danielewski. New releases,” I mutter, pointing to the book shelf behind him. Why do these people never actually look for the fuckin’ books. It’s out in god damn plain sight. At least he’s got decent taste. However, I’m thankful for the distraction. Where the hell’s Marin?

Yesterday was brilliant. We spent the whole day in and out of bed. She’s amazing. I hated having ta wake up this morning and open up shop. I probably wouldn’ have but she had a meeting to get to with Muriel. As hard as I tried to keep her in, she managed to resist me. Not completely though. She definitely left a bit wet. I made sure of it.

Marina

“I’m so sorry, dear. I really am, but he’s my grandson and I just don’t think it’s right making you drive all the way over here to do something Morgan wants to do. He’s going through a tough time with the divorce,” Muriel explains. It’s obvious she feels terrible about this. Her whole face is screaming guilt. Even though I am a little upset about losing my job so suddenly, I can’t complain. It makes perfect sense and she should spend some time with her grandson. She’s mentioned him in the past, mainly about how he was having problems with his wife.

“I completely understand. Honestly, it’s fine,” I insist. We’re standing in her backyard beside the pool. Morgan made a bathroom run. He seemed nice enough from what little I saw of him. His mustache, being the first thing I saw when I looked at him, is quite the attention grabber. He looked to be challenging Jason Lee for the best mustache award. Jason Lee wins of course. He had ran to the bathroom the second I walked in the house. Apparently it was an emergency.

“You’re always welcome here and I hope this won’t be the last I see of you,” Muriel says, a slight frown on her face. She called me early this morning and asked me to come by, saying that she had some bad news to give me. I was thinking the news would be a lot worse, that she was dying. So compared to death, this news is full of sunshine.

Before I can answer her slight inquiry, Morgan’s voice takes over as he walks outside to join us, “Why don’t you come by for dinner one of these nights?”

I am slightly surprised at the offer but realize that he’s just being polite. I doubt he actually expects me to accept.

“I’m having a Halloween party, you just have to come,” Muriel insists, taking my hands and gripping them tightly. I can’t help but laugh. “I know it’s still far away but I’ve already started planning it and you just have to come. It’s Halloween afternoon, it’s not too late.”

Morgan is grinning at me in a way that has me taking a step away from him. I feel like he’s studying me and it’s making me a little uncomfortable. I suddenly feel compelled to make sure he knows that I’m not single.

“Well if you insist. Would it be alright for me to bring Callum? I mean, if he doesn’t already have plans?” I ask Muriel, not comfortable with calling Callum my boyfriend. It just seems so…I don’t know. Especially since we still haven’t had the relationship talk. So, what do I call him? My lover? That would definitely amuse him.

“Of course! I’ve been waiting to meet the young man!” Muriel says, her voice a little to loud. Morgan is still grinning at me. He’s getting a divorce, he can’t be interested in me. Who moves that quickly?

Callum

I actually close up on time, which is shocking. The store is completely quiet, being that I shut the music off. Not in the mood to go upstairs, I get comfortable in one of the small armchairs in the children’s books section and prop my feet up on a shelf. The second I disappear inside my book on the Roman Empire, my phone rings from beside the register and unless it’s Marin, I’m very annoyed.

I get to the phone after three rings, “Hello?”

“I’m coming for Halloween,” Deaglan says as a way of greeting. Okay, this is an acceptable call.

“Why?” I don’t really get this holiday, if it’s even really a holiday. Maybe I’ve just never properly celebrated it.

“Our lovely mate, Vincent, is throwin’ a bash at his house there. We’re goin’.”

“Where is Vince livin’ nowadays?” I ask. I know he was living here for a long time but I’m pretty sure he moved back to England a year or so ago. The man can’t keep still.

“Still in London. He’s offered his American home to me to use as I see fit. I think I’m gonna be stayin’ for a bit. Keep ya in line.”

“That’s fuckin’ fabulous news.” I’ve missed the prick. It’ll be nice havin’ him around again. I hadn’t realized how much I missed his friendship until Ireland. Havin’ him with me to spread the ashes meant my sanity.

“I’m flyin’ over with ‘im, no need ta pick us up. Vincy’s hired people ta take care of the goods before we get there so we’re not comin’ till the thirtieth.”

Unless my inner calendar is off, that’s in two days. Life is freakishly good right now. I’m gettin’ nervous. Jus’ waiting for my world to collapse.

Marina
That Night

The store is dark and if it weren’t for the moon, I wouldn’t be able to see a thing. Even with the slight illumination, I still have no idea where Callum is hiding. I wouldn’t put it past him to jump out at me and scare me half to death. When I got back, the lights were on, I called his name and the lights were shut off. Now I’m wandering through the aisles in hopes that he didn’t miss any inventory boxes. I don’t feel like tripping and falling on my face.

“Callum? Honestly, Callum. Not cool. If I trip and split my head open on a shelf and die, I will never forgive you,” I call out quietly. “I will haunt you. Not in a cute Casper way either. In a way that is very bad.” There’s something about the silence that makes me keep from shouting. I don’t want to be the one to break it.

My hand brushing along the shelves to my left, I enter the main room and look around. I can see a lot better because of the front windows. They allow a lot more light in but I still see zero sign of that damn Irishman.

Biting my lip, I back up in the direction I came in and hit what feels like a wall at first until arms wrap around me tightly and pull me back. Suddenly I have no control over the sounds I make and I let out a horribly embarrassing squeal. Smacking at his arms and wiggling, I try to get free.

“You’re bloody lucky I’m not a nutter out searching for young, ripe bodies to plunder. You’d be fucked, in more ways than one, with this pathetic display of self-defense.” His voice is deep, his accent thick, and I have to take a breath so as not to get wrapped up in it.

“I must be mistaken, I thought those have always been your intentions,” I reply sweetly, turning my head to try and look at him.

He turns us and walks forward, forcing me to move with him. He walks me right up against a book case and presses against my back. I can feel his entire body. His back is flush against mine and he drops his head to my neck, his breath is warm against my skin. He shifts his weight and I groan at the feeling of his erection pressing against the swell of my butt. He moves his hands to slide under my shirt and I rest my head against his shoulder.

“How do ya do it?” he whispers against my neck. He kisses up to my ear and hovers there, waiting for a response.

“Do what?” I ask, my voice slightly shaky.

Instead of answering, he pulls away and my back is left cold. I’m surprised at his sudden departure and I don’t turn around immediately. I almost expect him to come back and when he doesn’t, I finally turn. He’s not standing in front of me. The light in the main room flicks on so I walk in, squinting slightly.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, analyzing his stance. He’s so…put together today. His clothes are neat and tidy and it seems unusual and normal all at the same time. The dark blue jeans are faded at the knees and hug his waist perfectly. It’s the long-sleeved white dress shirt and royal blue sweater vest that are so charming.

He shakes his head absently and kneels behind the counter. What in the world goes on in his mind? Soft music begins to play from the small speakers mounted in the ceiling corners and he stands back up. The music is low but the voice is unmistakably Nick Cave singing Into My Arms. Callum moves around the counter and approaches me, a gentle smile on his face.

“Will you dance with me?”

“Are you serious?” I don’t mean to sound rude but this is the last thing I expected. He wants to dance with me? What happened to the groping? Not that I don’t want to dance with him but this just isn’t fair. He did that on purpose. He deliberately went on with the seducing and than left me hanging. Now he wants to dance like nothing just happened.

His hand is held out, waiting for me to accept, and that’s fine. If he wants to dance, I’ll dance. But I will not behave because he deserves to be teased.

I take his hand with a smile and walk into his arms. Plans of revenge are slightly forgotten at the feeling of his body wrapping around mine. This feeling will never cease to amaze me. How one simple thing and one person can make me feel so right and comfortable with the world. I vaguely remember dancing with him, I think, when I was drunk. That night wasn’t so great but at the same time, it was wonderful because of what it all ultimately led to.

He pulls away slightly and takes my hand in his, his other hand at the small of my back. I stare at our hands together and his is so much larger than mine. I love his hands. They’re so strong and somehow so gentle. He can do amazing things with those hands. Not just sexual things. Although, those sexual things are quite…well-done. But he makes things. It seems so simple but it’s extremely difficult to really make something. Something that you can be happy with. He is so happy when he draws. It’s enough to make me fall in love with him if I hadn’t already.

He’s humming along with the music, deep in his throat, and it comes out quite rough and very sexy. I smile at the thought of seducing him and I drop my head below his chin to keep him from seeing it. The sweater is amazingly soft on my chin. I begin running my fingers up and down his back, until I finally slide them underneath the sweater to continue the touching with only the dress-shirt as a barrier. He doesn’t seem to care, having no outward response, but I’m not going to give up.

The music spurns me on, Nick Cave’s voice is dominant and seducing, much like Callum himself. Thank god Callum doesn’t sing, at least I don’t think he does, I really hope that he doesn’t.

I try not to fidget in his arms but he’s barely touching me. There’s contact, but it’s too damn light. He’s not even moving his hand across my back. There’s just the slight movement with the music. I tilt my head slightly and lightly kiss his neck, across his throat and I can feel him swallow, his Adam’s apple betraying his calm demeanor. I pull my hand from his and set it on his hip. He slides his hand in my hair but doesn’t pull my head up, he just leaves it there, his fingers tightening.

I smile against his neck and think about going for the big move, just moving my hand down to his jeans. Not yet though. I press myself closer against him and feel the sharp edge of the counter against my back. Somehow he managed to maneuver us in this direction and I hadn’t even noticed. I don’t even know if he notices. I’m slightly at the disadvantage now that I’m in the submissive position but I refuse to let that deter me.

His scent is overwhelming and I wish he wasn’t wearing so many layers. I take my hand off his back and slide it around to his stomach without taking it out from beneath the sweater. I gently pull at the tucked in shirt until I can run my fingers along his stomach. With the counter against my back, the dancing has been given up and now he’s just holding me against his body and humming.

The humming turns into a low moan as holds his hands against my shoulders, pushing me back to look me in the eye. His expression is dark and if I hadn’t grown to recognize the difference between anger and lust, I would think he was upset with me. But knowing his face, I know that I’m getting to him.

He pulls my hands off of him, pushing them to my sides and against the counter. I lean back, my elbows on the cool surface, and almost moan from the pleasure of stretching my back.

Callum

Her breasts are thrust out in her position and I can see her nipples, hard beneath that pathetic fuckin’ top of hers. I had to touch it to see if it was as thin as it looked and I wasn’t disappointed. She went out in this. Other men saw her in this. The thought makes me angrier than I care to admit. It’s black, the top part of it is lace and I can just barely make out the swell of her breasts. The collar is high and her bra is black, the straps visible on her shoulders. Granted she only went over to see the old woman she looks after, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s not necessarily that I don’ want her wearin’ sexy clothes, it’s just that I wasn’ by her side. It’s this incessant feeling of bein’ left out. Of missing a look, a movement.

I know what she’s doin’ with her touching and that damn look in her eyes. I’m thoroughly enjoying her advances and I want to just continue to enjoy them. I don’ want to fuck her here, now. Not that I’m against sex in the store, not in the least, just not right now. It’s probably a bloody first for me, not wanting sex from her. I just want ta feel her hands. I love her touch. I’m bloody well losin’ it.

She leans her head back and to the right. Her neck is so pale beneath the black lace and I notice the tiny buttons along her left shoulder up to her neck. With her neck offered like that, I reach up and slip the buttons out of the loops, one at a time. The material falls open and it’s so fuckin’ seductive. I can’t help myself and I kiss her there.

She shifts, asking, “What’s this?”

Lifting my head, Marin has the art dealer’s card and she’s studying it rather intently. “Bullocks,” I sigh as I will her to just drop the card. Why the fuck didn’ I throw that out? I don’t answer her and go back to her neck, biting softly on her shoulder. Hoping to distract her, I slide my hand up her side to her breast, circling her nipple with my finger. Her soft moan has me changing my mind about not fucking her here and now. My jeans are too damn tight and her skin is too fuckin’ soft.

“What is it?” she asks again.

“It’s a bloody business card,” I throw out at her, annoyed and pulling away from her body. She’s flushed and has a slight frown on those wonderful lips.

“Are you going to have a show or something?” She sets the card down and pulls at her top to right it. I shake my head and head upstairs. I don’ want to talk about it and I realize I’m being a complete arse. I know this and I’m still walkin’ away from her.

Marina

This isn’t fair. He can be as moody as he wants but I did nothing. I want to smack him and cry at the same time as I watch him walk upstairs. Well, screw him. I refuse to be the girl who lets the guy walk all over her. If he thinks he can treat me like, he’s very very wrong. I ignore the fact that this may be considered the second botched seduction of mine. At least he responded, unlike that last cheating boyfriend of mine.

I switch the store’s light off, the music following, and I follow after him. When I open the front door, he’s in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open. I ignore the way he looks with his clothes untucked and I prepare for an argument.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. When he doesn’t answer I get frustrated. “All I did was ask about the card, I was curious and interested in your life. That’s what people do, Callum. That’s how people act when they care, they make an effort with one another.”

He turned around to look at me right after I started talking and he’s still staring. Why did he get so snippy? Was it cause I put a pause on the groping? If that’s the reason, he’s seriously got some issues. I don’t ask him this, instead I just stare back. Now I don’t know what to say and he’s not offering anything up.

He rubs his eyes and crosses the room to slowly wrap his arms around me in a hug. I don’t know what to do at first and I stay still. I didn’t expect such a submissive reaction. He lightly kisses my forehead, muttering an apology. He completely baffles me and I return his gesture, feeling the muscles beneath my hands on his back. I relax and press my face against his shoulder. I just want it to always be like this but I know that it can’t be. I can already foresee future problems and I don’t care. Maybe I’m too positive because I just want this to work so badly. I want him to love me back.

I want to ask him about the card again. He didn’t answer my question and I’m really curious. He’s very talented and he should have his work seen. I don’t want him blowing off any offers. Maybe I should wait to ask again, give him some time. Maybe he needs to figure it out for himself first.

Pulling away, I smile up at him, “Muriel’s having an afternoon Halloween party at her house and she wants me to go, would you come?”

His eyebrows raise, one slightly higher than the other, “I don’ do Halloween. Complete bullocks.”

“Not even as a kid? She really wants to meet you,” I say, not being able to help the disappointment in my voice. I thought he’d go.

“No thanks.”

Sighing, I nod my head and accept his refusal. I don’t even know if we’re in a relationship. I can’t expect him to start going places with me. Especially to parties thrown by the elderly.

He kisses my forehead and breaks the embrace, heading back to the kitchen. I follow him and pull myself up to sit on the island counter.

“Besides, Deaglan’s flyin’ over. A friend of ours is havin’ a party and I ‘ave ta be there,” he adds, his back turned to me.

“You didn’t mention it,” I say slowly. Am I not invited? What the hell?

“I jus’ talked ta Deck earlier.” When I don’t say anything, he turns around with a beer in hand, adding with a smile, “So don’ stay too long at Muriel’s jamboree.”

“Her thing starts at four so I doubt it will run late. Who’s the friend? Do I know the friend?” I ramble, my mood severely lifted. I don’t care if he doesn’t go with me to Muriel’s party. He actually has a reason and I’m excited to see Deaglan again and this new friend. And I’m glad I get to go to a real Halloween party.

“Vincent, he’s English. He’d been living here for a while but recently moved back to London. He has a house here where he’s throwin’ the party.”

“How come he’s coming here to throw a party? Why not just do it in London?”

“Halloween isn’t really a huge thing there. Doesn’ make much sense ta me, honestly. A Guy bonfire on Fawkes Night makes more bloody sense to me than Halloween does.”

“What do you do?” I ask, allowing the distraction for a moment. I admit, I didn’t know much about the guy before I saw V for Vendetta, which I think might be true for a lot of Americans.

“Before November fifth, tots make up Guy dummies and use them to beg for money. Penny for the Guy. The night of the fifth, Guy Fawkes Night, the dummies are burnt in a bonfire along with much celebration.”

“Is that just an English thing?” I ask.

“Australia partook for a bit, I don’ know if they still do. It was always a lot of fun in England. Easy to find trouble with fireworks and no, I will not dress as Guy Fawkes,” he adds quickly.

“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” I defend honestly but I can’t help but laugh at the thought of Callum in the costume from the film.

“Are you going to dress up though?” I ask, wanting to bring my feet up but I don’t think Callum would appreciate my feet on the counter.

He groans, rubbing his jaw with the beer bottle in his hand, “I think I may ‘ave to. Apparently it’s gonna have a theme. Vince hasn’t decided.”

“Make sure you find out for me. I need to dress accordingly.”

He nods a few times and takes a sip of the beer.

“I lost my job,” I blurt out.

“What?”

“Muriel’s grandson is getting a divorce so he moved back. She doesn’t really need me anymore, he’s going to be taking care of her,” I explain, trying not to sound disappointed at the fact that I’m jobless again. That means I’m going to have to find something else. I’m happy for her, of course I am, but I’m not happy about my situation.

“And you’re still wantin’ ta go to her shindig?” he asks incredulous.

“Of course. We’re still friends. And they invited me.”

“They?” his brows rise with interest as he leans against the counter behind him. I watch him raise the bottle to his lips again before I answer.

“Muriel and Morgan. Her grandson.”

“Morgan’s are pricks,” he snarks.

“He seems perfectly fine.”

“I’ve known a few Morgan’s. All complete wankers,” he dismisses.

“Really? And how many me’s have you known?” I ask slyly, sliding off the counter and walking up to him.

“Jus’ the one.” He takes another sip and after swallowing, leans down to lightly brush his lips against mine. I can taste the beer and underneath the taste is strictly Callum. He’s more intoxicating than the alcohol.


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AN:
Book: “The Accident” - Elie Wiesel

Book: “Only Revolutions” – Mark Z. Danielewski

Author: George Orwell

Song: “Absinth I Drink You, Absinth I Eat You” - Taraf de Haïdouks

Song: “Into My Arms” - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Singer: Julie London