(WordPress mobile stinks and deleted the first version I published, which makes me mad AND sad because there was a lovely comment)
The air was velvety ribbons of breeze in the summer evening. The stars played connect the dots across a deep blue sky, brilliant and playful, a blanket you could tug down to lay upon the grass.
She sat, slim and pale in a cap sleeve dress, knees together, demurely provocative. She shone like every cliche he’d ever read, luminescent like alabaster, lit from within like polished white marble.
Around them, globular swarms of some kind of bit me bugs cartooned around in tiny gangs, moths beat parchment wings. Two young hares, rump to rump like dueling pistols, crouched by the gate.
‘You do know,’ she murmured, ‘how lucky you are that I agreed to meet with you again.’
He nodded, false recalcitrance shining in the grin he didn’t bother trying to hide. ‘Im a dirty rotten bastard, I know.’
She felt the forgiveness seeping in around the edges of an already softened heart. ‘No, you’re not. Many things you may be, and a bastard for certain, but neither dirty nor rotten.’
He sketched a mocking bow and sat down beside her. ‘Ive come to woo you, until you swoon back into my arms. I just thought that you should know.’
‘I would name you cad, but fear you would take too much pride in it.’
‘Ill show you a cad,’ he declared, swooping in to scoop up her hand and place a smacking kiss across the knuckles.
She turned her head haughtily on a muffled laugh. ‘I am quite sure there’s nothing that you could possibly do to win me back.’
He didn’t answer, least always not with more words. She felt her hand turned over, and slower kisses landed upon her palm, trailed up her inner arm, stooping just shy of the crook of her elbow. Hot breath warmed the already warm pocket of flesh; he held still there, breathing slowly.
‘You may continue your wooing, I suppose,’ with only a little hitch in her voice to mar it’s insouciance.
As he straightened and leaned in towards her, as he slid a hand into a silky mass of black hair to cup the back of her neck, as his eyes smiled at her mouth, she let out a sigh, and the night air came alive.
There are so many really talented writers participating in the speakeasy challenge that it’s a privilege to feel challenged to raise my writing game to their level.
This week, the sentence chosen (in bold) was picked by last weeks champion, the Alien Aura blog. I highly suggest that you read her story, as I personally was blown away by it:http://alienorajt.wordpress.com/2014/03/30/speakeasy155-lienas-journey/
They also threw us a media prompt, Glory Box by Portishead. I had a creative friend help me discern some of the message within the lyrics and the video (thanks, Jason).