New Member
Hello, my name is Amanda and I just recently returned to Blurty, after a long break, and joined this community. I love to write more than anything and decided this looked like an active place to join. I'm 18 and I live in Virginia, attend college, and spend a lot of time with my friends and boyfriend. I mostly write prose and poetry, my attention can't maintain for too long. Anyway, here's a piece that I wrote sometime within the month ...
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There was something inherently evil in her smile. Her wet teeth shined in the dim lighting of the room. She crooned over her rather susceptible victim, but then again, they all are to her. She had green eyes that flashed a sort of uneasy danger that was oddly welcoming. She whispered something to him and slipped in a wink at the end. He was entranced by her long, winding curls that playfully tossed at her shoulders. She was inviting him in but pushing away all reason or rationale. She wore a long dress of pure white linen. It was an angel pulling the devil in, or was she taunting him, pulling him closer only to drop him right before the punch line? Her lips pouted perfectly above the skin of his neck, whispering more details to further entrap him. He was clumsy and falling fast for the quick tricks of her lips. His thick trench coat kept his arms close, fingers fidgeting in his pockets. His lower lip trembled with a certain amount of uncertainty. Was he going to get there before she left him hard on? He pushed the wire brims slightly farther up the bridge of his nose, catching his fast fleeting breath. She lowered herself onto his lap, talking softly about his face, keeping his attention fast on her. She thrived off watching him watch her. A smile crept up and stuck as she pulled her curls off to her shoulder and slowly edged the sleeve of her dress off. His eyes swelled and stalked her hands that were creeping under his trench and over his starched cornflower blue work shirt. She left sweet kisses on his neck, earlobe, moving down to the collarbone, nibbling on Adam’s apple. She could feel him bulging beneath her, reveling in her enormous effect of him. He was too nervous, sheepish, timid, modest to put his own hands on her. I might dirty her linen dress, he thought quietly, keeping his hands in the pockets of his Dickies. Slow but strong she left her odious impression upon him before she left. He was left with only the memory of her soft ashen skin and the fingers that traced circles on his chest, her jade eyes that spoke certain tenderness to him, so that he knew he had nothing to fear. The price she set was heavenly to him, an opportunity to tug gently on the amber curls that tumbled across his face in an instant of unleveled passion.
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