07 Oct A Short Story: Like That.
*This story is entirely a work of fiction.*
(Theatrical sci-fi writing practice).
We were at an apartment nestled somewhere in between California and Nevada. The exact coordinates don’t really matter as the reader’s digest over paradoxical matters.
It was early in the morning and Maria was sitting at the table in her lingerie, as she typically does, but this particular morning she had a hazel humidity to the color of her eyes, which notified me that she was most likely satisfied. I was sipping on some coffee, appreciating the fact that she liked to entertain me with her body language like that so I decided to test my hypothesis, tricked her and I said cunningly, “Life isn’t really about being satisfied as much as it is about what wakes ya up in the morning…”
She smiled the type of smile that had a pleasant yet concurring moan to it and said, “I’d say that I’m feeling rather satisfied.”
Aside from the physical attraction I enjoy the subtle signs that beautiful girls give into what fuels their desire, for the more beautiful they are, the easier it is to tell when they’re lying or being honest.
She kept looking outside the window which led me to believe that she was waiting for me to say some words that she either wanted to hear, didn’t want to hear, but was looking to hear regardless. So, I placed my cup on the table, the steam from the coffee mysteriously wafted as I spoke with deep tone and breath, “I like the way you look while you’re in contemplation; minutely frustrated, frazzled, dazzled, emancipated yet enduring… it’s quite sexy.”
She rolled her eyes, not in a sassy way, but in a way that she was letting me know that she knew I was just trying to charm her and said, “How many other girls have you said that line to?”
I walked over to the pantry, grabbed a bottle of water and then handed it to her and said, “Shorty, my words for every girl are as unique as the kiss that I place upon their lips.”
She opened up the water bottle, took a few gulps and said, “Where did you learn to speak like that?”
She continued speaking, but I couldn’t help but notice a hairline fracture developing on the glass window behind her while a sound notification from my phone abruptly caused me to stand up. I reached into my wallet, skipped past the twenty-dollar bills, grabbed a five and two ones, threw them on the table and said, “I’ve got to go. There’s a fast-food burger spot down the street that you can eat at. Make sure you lock the door behind you.”
You’re a fucking asshole!
What the fuck?
You throw 7 fucking dollars on the table, tell me to go get something to eat and that you randomly have to go somewhere? I don’t need your 7 dollars; I can buy my own food.
Look… I’ve got to go. It’s really important.
(Speaks aggressively and assertively)
You’re an asshole, that’s just what you are, who you are. You think the type of behavior you just showcased is acceptable? Especially after you get me sensually and sexually absorbed?
You can take a shower if you want… I don’t have time for this right now; I have to go… it’s really important.
Shorty, you can skinny dip in the shower all day waiting for me to get back if you want, but I’ve go to go. If you knew what I do, and why I’ve got to go and why it’s important, you wouldn’t be calling me an asshole. Don’t you think I’d rather stay here and dick you down?
(Sighs and rolls her eyes)