Obsession
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
4,948
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
4,948
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Obsession
One
I watch him.
His dusty brown hair, cropped at the ears, is slightly disheveled by a cool breeze. Pale, slender fingers casually bring a lit cigarette to his full lips. He exhales like a man with all the time in the world. Dark eyes gaze off into the distance, past the parking lot, empty streets and beyond. The contours of his face are sharp, like a razor’s edge. His nose is hawkish, his jaw is firm. Dressed in a black suit jacket and tight jeans, he leans against the wall, one foot braced upon the brick surface. A passing cloud casts him into the shadows. He is alone.
Almost.
I watch him from the sanctuary of the tennis court. Gym class today. The dull thuds of ball-meeting-racket fill the air. I ignore them. I don’t the roughness of the ground, or the cold steel meshing pressing into my back. The sun feels warm against my bare arms, but the sight of him makes me burn. I squint to try and see what shoes he is wearing. Black Doc Martens are the usual, but sometimes he likes to mix things up a bit. Not often, though. He is a creature of habit. He never misses his lunch break smoke. He speaks with a fluidity that is melodic to my ears. He always takes advantage of his students’ opinions.
I raise my hand at least twice a week. English was never my strong suit.
Teacher calls time. Away goes the gear. I rise from my spot, eyes hoping to catch a stray gaze. Maybe even wave to him. He’s gone. Disappointment flutters in my chest, but it doesn’t stay for long. There is always tomorrow.
_______________________________________________________________________
I’m close. Oh, so close!
I think of him. Of his lips against mine, our tongues clashing. Of his hand beneath my skirt, two long fingers thrusting into me while his other hand braces me against the wall. Of how thick and hard he would feel inside of me. Of how, after an extraordinary quickie in the girls’ lavatory, he’d ignore me all day until the last student had left his room. It would be just us and his desk. I choke back a moan, the world dissolving aroud me as I come. A tiled wall is the only thing that’s keeping me standing. Two stalls down, a toliet flushes. I clean up and walk out.
R&R please!
I watch him.
His dusty brown hair, cropped at the ears, is slightly disheveled by a cool breeze. Pale, slender fingers casually bring a lit cigarette to his full lips. He exhales like a man with all the time in the world. Dark eyes gaze off into the distance, past the parking lot, empty streets and beyond. The contours of his face are sharp, like a razor’s edge. His nose is hawkish, his jaw is firm. Dressed in a black suit jacket and tight jeans, he leans against the wall, one foot braced upon the brick surface. A passing cloud casts him into the shadows. He is alone.
Almost.
I watch him from the sanctuary of the tennis court. Gym class today. The dull thuds of ball-meeting-racket fill the air. I ignore them. I don’t the roughness of the ground, or the cold steel meshing pressing into my back. The sun feels warm against my bare arms, but the sight of him makes me burn. I squint to try and see what shoes he is wearing. Black Doc Martens are the usual, but sometimes he likes to mix things up a bit. Not often, though. He is a creature of habit. He never misses his lunch break smoke. He speaks with a fluidity that is melodic to my ears. He always takes advantage of his students’ opinions.
I raise my hand at least twice a week. English was never my strong suit.
Teacher calls time. Away goes the gear. I rise from my spot, eyes hoping to catch a stray gaze. Maybe even wave to him. He’s gone. Disappointment flutters in my chest, but it doesn’t stay for long. There is always tomorrow.
_______________________________________________________________________
I’m close. Oh, so close!
I think of him. Of his lips against mine, our tongues clashing. Of his hand beneath my skirt, two long fingers thrusting into me while his other hand braces me against the wall. Of how thick and hard he would feel inside of me. Of how, after an extraordinary quickie in the girls’ lavatory, he’d ignore me all day until the last student had left his room. It would be just us and his desk. I choke back a moan, the world dissolving aroud me as I come. A tiled wall is the only thing that’s keeping me standing. Two stalls down, a toliet flushes. I clean up and walk out.
R&R please!