nuagederose

[nuagederose]

Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter Twenty-Two: Shadow of the Season

ao3 link

Over the next few weeks, and under the weighted heat from the summer sun, Christine bode her time and picked out the right day to join Alex in his new class. She took the bus up to the school with the paperwork in hand, of which included his signature and even a gentle kiss on the paper right next to the little “x” whereby he had signed it for her. A brand-new elective and a new excuse to be close to him again, and she knew that if Captain Howdy was to be nearby there again much like that day in summer school, she would have to plan around it all. 

She kept the paper rested upon her lap, and she rested her hands upon the top of the paper. Underneath it all, she had a thick paperback book all about Bernini courtesy of him: he had given it to her that day that he signed her paperwork.

“Something to stick it to her, if you know what I mean,” he told her in a soft voice.

Indeed, she slid the papers under the back cover of the book, and she glanced over the front part of it. Bernini, the sculptor and the architect, the latter of which made her hair stand on end and her horns rise up from the crown of her head in proverbial fashion, and yet it was his sculpture that caught her eye and the raise of the eyebrow. The statue of Apollo and Daphne made her think of herself with Alex, in the way in which she held her arms up over her head as if she was falling forth to the ground and he kept his arm around her hips as if to catch her. She cracked open the book to find that Daphne had her arms up in the midst of a metamorphosis into a tree. Apollo kept his hand on her hip

When viewed from the right side, all details could be seen in utmost delicate fashion. The thought of that made her think of all the times she woke up next to Alex, and his sleeping face seemed all the more delicate from the right side. He would lay flat on his back and roll his head to the side so the full tip of his nose held over the edge of his pillow. The roots of his gray streak appeared almost pure white from the morning light. His skin was smooth and lush, filled with the warmth of the morning and having been cozied up in bed next to her.

The thought of being warm, laying next to Alex during a morning rainfall, was enough to beckon a bead sweat from her even on the air conditioned bus.

Christine had on that little white blouse which he had bought for her birthday back in April, while she paired it with fitted red wine-colored Bermuda shorts lined with lace which made it resemble to lingerie. She kept her hair tied up in a snug ponytail at the back of her head, and she pinned back her bangs to expose more of her face to the world. Some days during the summer, especially these particularly hot ones, she just felt a need to peel off her top and bear her bra and bare skin to the world. Something about having gone to California with Eric for a whole week opened up something in her mind.

She was more than willing to head into the brand-new school year with her new devil horns and a willingness to flirt with disaster. New boys at the helm and Captain Howdy appearing more and more, and all the while when she least expected it as well: she could go about with it from the side of the room and she knew that she could keep her fingers linked up with Alex’s long guitar player fingers. That morning in the upstairs spare room in the Iridium gave her everything that she needed to know going into the new school year.

The bus lumbered up to the curb right near the stop, and she kept the paperwork and the book tucked under her arm as she padded out of the cool safe haven and into the heat of the city. The morning sun beat down on the buildings making up the Lower East Side with the tail end of an early August heat wave, such that she could feel it even in shade. The heart of summer bathed her in a thick envelope all the way up the sidewalk to the front of the registrar’s office.

It wasn’t that long of a walk but under the summer heat, it made her think of the one dream she had had where she and Alex were walking across the desert together. She may as well be wading through sun-scorched sand up to her knees, especially when she left the shade for a brief moment.

“Too bloody hot,” she bemoaned, even when she returned to the shade and tugged the door open. She was once again hit with the air conditioner, which only coaxed out more beads of sweat on the side of her neck. But Christine gathered herself and turned to the women at the front desk. She set down the paperwork with a smile and told them everything. A new ID card for the year followed suit, and she returned to the front of the building in a flash and a blur.

It was done. She was going to have three classes with Alex as well as her two art classes. She was going to be utterly swamped come the fall, but she knew that it would absolutely be worth it. She could seduce Alex from all angles, from all right angles to examine all soft details of his face and his body, and if Captain Howdy wanted to join along, she would have to bear witness to it.

The thought was crazy, and she knew that she was going to be walking through the fire with her lingering behind her like the omnipresent demon that she was, but with the thought of Chris and Ann in her mind, she knew she had to take a gamble with it all.

They had slipped from her so fast, and she knew that she could lose Alex. She was going to lose Alex. She was going to lose him to Captain Howdy come the holiday season.

She had to be brave.

Christine returned to the sidewalk and the patch of shade cast down from the crown of the building. She clutched the book and pressed it against her chest as if she was about to meet up with Alex himself for lunch during the school week.

Somewhere about the campus was that new boy Chuck, the one with curly hair, but she looked about the place for Chuck the teacher’s aide from the day in summer school. Both were recognizable even from clear across the grass.

She thought of meeting someone for a round of lunch followed by a ride down to Rockaway Beach, but she wondered if the beach itself was crowded from the immense heat. She suddenly got the thought to meet Alex down by Coney Island once again before school started.

They had to be down on Coney Island again, and once more when no one else was around. She gazed out to the grass as it basked out in the hot sun. She knew that things could be even hotter in the remaining time that she had left with the summer term, and she and Alex could have their moments alone in other places. New York was big, and Captain Howdy couldn’t rule over the entire place.

“To the Museum of Sex,” she said under her breath, and she glanced down at the book nestled within her hands. “And of course, to the Museum of Modern Art.”

She caught the sound of familiar voices on the far side of the courtyard, and she turned her attention to see those smooth heads of hair over there, those smooth heads of rich darkness like fresh molasses, the reminder that fall was coming and she would soon be snuggled up next to Alex, with her head tucked under his chin and her hand down his shorts, all in the safety of her bed once again. Keeping in the line of the shade, Christine made her way along the sidewalk in the hopes that she could keep up with them over there.

Eric took a glimpse over his shoulder, whereby she even recognized him with his sunglasses over his face. He nodded over at her, and Louie turned his head for a look over at her. They both flashed her a wave and big smiles all around; the latter playfully blew her a kiss and she followed it up with sticking out her tongue at him. The two of them laughed and then walked onward to the other side of the building, down by the cafeteria. Christine thought about going in there to fetch a bite to eat and perhaps catching up with them, but she also wondered whether or not she would be predisposed to Nelly.

She knew that she would have quite the story to tell her, and she knew that Nelly would have a difficult time in grappling with the reality of it all. She also couldn’t believe that Nelly would even lie to her, as well.

Christine lingered in the shadow as she knew that she would have to wait a long time before the bus returned to the stop once again. A long time, and she could not bear to walk through the hot sun for very long, much less stand out in the open for a great deal of time with nothing more than the protective awning of the bus stop to protect her from the immense heat.

If the registrar’s office was open, then surely the library was open.

She thought about all the times that she and Chris would retreat to the library together at school, and it was always to help expand their minds when class did not suffice things.

With a quick glimpse up and down the street before her, she breathed in deep, and then she ducked out into the hot sunlight. She padded across the pavement towards the safety of the grass, and she kept on going to the next building for the quietness and stillness of the library. If nothing else, she could seek out solitude amongst the books and papers away from the world, barring the fact that Captain Howdy stayed away from there during the course of the school year.

When she stepped in through the front doors, Christine was again greeted by the blast of cool air from the overhead vent. She glanced about the vast room and the tables strewn across the floor before her. The feeling of the book pages welcomed her. The taste of knowledge at her every whim. The desire to challenge herself and step away from the wounds of the past.

Alex did promise her the Smithsonian in the future, after all. The world and anything that could give her a new feeling of life.

She thought about the night they stayed together over the Iridium, and even though Alex wanted them to stay a second night, there was no way they could, at least not without breaking into the club and finding their way upstairs without anyone looking in their direction. The mere thought coaxed a bead of sweat out from the side of her brow. While Alex always kept her warm during the hard winter days, when she thought about him there, she began to feel the sweat again.

The sticky summer heat on her arms and shoulders, and she yearned for the cooler days of fall with the feeling of Alex cozied up next to her, and more so when she sought out the history books off to the left side of the room. Books about Bernini, but also Frida Kahlo and Vincent Van Gogh, about the Romans and the Egyptians, about the Chinese, the Japanese, the Aboriginals and Māori tribes, and even the ancient Israelites and Persians, and she found herself at the end of the shelves with culinary history.

So many to choose from, but she decided to treat herself on the ride home.

With her book on Bernini, she chose a book on Jewish art as well as a book on bread making: something different and something to challenge her. She checked out and returned to the heat of the day.

Fall was upon her, but so was the thought of the wedding. There still was no plan to thwart things or even so much as postpone them. The mere suggestion of the wedding gave her such a feeling of melancholy that she could only walk on back to the bus stop with her books tucked under her arm.

She knelt down before the tree closest to the bus stop so she could put them into her purse. It was there she remembered that Marlene had taken it and protected it in her purse. Whoever was guarding the tree seemed to have missed the fact that she had been there before and taken it.

She stood back up and continued on to the bus stop. Luckily, she only had to wait for a few minutes under the awning, and the bus returned to the curb before her. She rode all the way back to Queens with the vent over her head, and she ensured that the cool of the air conditioning remained over her head and shoulders.

By the time she unlocked her door, and she was greeted by the sound of Crosby, Stills, and Nash from across the way in her mother’s apartment, she ducked into her apartment, which was still cool from when she left that morning.

Christine peeled off her blouse and let her skin breathe from the heat of the day. She carried her purse into her bedroom, where she left her door open, and she took her books out of the safety of her purse.

She lay down on her back and gazed up at the ceiling overhead for a moment before she cracked open the book about Bernini again. She had no idea if it was from the dog days of summer weighing down on her or the fact that she had gone out and spent a great portion of the day at school again, but she could feel her eyes drooping closed within a few minutes. 

She then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Christine awoke on the shores of a stormy island somewhere. The beach was vast and black, and she lay under a thick heavy blanket of dark gray clouds. A cold high wind blew all around her, and she could feel the weight of snow against her legs and shoulders. She lifted herself up off the sand right as she spotted a schooner down the shoreline from her.

Even with the volcanic sands underneath her feet, she ran towards the boat. She could feel him waiting for her there. Her bare feet made no sound as she ran along the cold blackened earth. The wind whipped her hair back away from the back of her head like the tail of a galloping horse on the desert.

As she came closer to the docked ship, she recognized his silver streak there over the railing. His silver streak whipped in the high winds while the rest of his helmet of rich black hair spread over his shoulders. He looked like a hero waiting for her there on his mighty boat.

Panting, and with her legs sore from having run a great distance, Christine reached the boat and ran up the narrow ramp. The notches on the ramp seemed to rise up like cold stones, stones to keep her away from him. Indeed, she tripped and fell against the ramp, right before she reached him.

But Alex reached out a hand and tugged her aboard. The ramp lifted up behind her and the winds picked up a great deal as they stood up on the deck together like a couple awaiting the arrival of the Carpathia. As they left the island’s shore, Christine could see the slight horseshoe shape of it even from a distance, with the notch in the southern side.

“Deception Island,” he told her as he put his arm around her and tugged her in closer to his warm body. Christine’s hair was wet from the ocean, but she was warm as she pressed herself up against him.

“Where are we going?” she asked him as one of the crew members offered a blanket for them.

“Antarctica,” he replied as he tightened the blanket around her shoulders and her chest, and then he did the same for himself. “We’re going to go on a studying expedition of sorts. You and me and the amazing crew who have organized this whole thing. We’re gonna hang with the penguins and study the whole grand scheme of things from the final frontier.”

A hard gust of wind hit the side of the schooner, such that the entire vessel rocked hard against the waves. Alex kept his arms around her as he guided her into the safe interior of the ship. But the wind howled all around them, and they were hit with cold spray from another high wave. Not a single significant landmass to protect them from the high rogue waves, but they were about to dance with the realm of knowledge at their fingertips even if it meant falling overboard into those icy swirling waters and the vast stretch of unknown.

Christine leaned against the doorframe and Alex kept his arms around her. They still had their blankets wrapped around them, but for whatever reason, they never slid in all the way.

“Stay with me always, my Strawberry Girl,” he whispered to her. Even over the howling winds of the Southern Ocean off to the side, she could hear the tender tone of his voice. 

She could still hear it even when she opened her eyes and found herself back in her bedroom, and the cold of the air conditioner had acted as the cold southern winds. The waters and the sea spray was something to ponder over, however.

[nuagederose]

part two of my something of an advent calendar ❄️

Nelly, Christine, and Alex in front of Chris’ grave

John and Tina on the bus to West Virginia

l’chaim!

“dying of a broken heart”

the return of “Billy Crystal”

[nuagederose]

mid-december 2006: i made my first cartoons.

welcome to adulthood, gang!

[nuagederose]

Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter Twenty-One: When You Sleep

ao3 link

The blue lights over the stage shone down over Alex and Nathan’s heads to the point it bestowed them with soft sapphire crowns upon their heads: Christine was alone at the smallest table closest to the stage, and yet, she considered doubling back into the darkness towards the bar on the side of the room just to meet up with Eric and Valentina again. But she kept her eye on Alex the whole entire time: on the way his fingers seemed to so effortlessly move about the frets and give off the most elegant of sounds. Indeed, one song they played, which he had titled “Unbound”, made her think of walking through the woods with a warm cup of coffee in hand, with the lush aroma of the coffee to surround her like a warm blanket. All the while, she was completely unaware of the look on her face: when she looked over at Nathan and the playful smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye, and she wondered as to what he was thinking about. It was then she glanced at the room behind her and she noticed more people looking at her in a similar fashion. She returned her attention back to Alex right as he gave his hair a toss back with the quick flick of his head.

From behind his glasses, she could see the hooded look to his eyes and the warmth to his face. Christine sat about five feet away the edge of the stage, close enough for Alex to keep his eye on her the whole time. She was the only one who stayed that close to the stage’s edge, and it felt as though everyone could see her there. And yet, she wanted people to see her. She wanted the world to know that she had her eye on Alex this whole time and she would always have her eye on him. There could be other men who would garner her attention, but at the end of the day, she always returned to Alex and his open arms, open and ready for her to fall back into to feel the softness and warmth of his body.

There was a song around halfway through the set, one where she had a feeling he dedicated to her, of which he called “Hot and Heavy.” He added a healthy dose of distortion to his guitar while Nathan brought some extra overdrive to his bass and Matt’s drums seemed deeper as well. Christine leaned back in the chair with her hands rested upon the edge of the table, and she let the music run through her like water under the thick layered veil of the summer heat. She closed her eyes and let her ponytail fall back over the back of the spindly chair.

She thought about the first time she and Alex had had a moment alone together. He may have been the teacher who carried himself to where the Sundaes all fawned over him, but she had warmed up to him first. She got to feel his skin and taste his lips first. Moreover, she let him see her naked. Captain Howdy could never take that from her.

She let the music guide her to where she could feel herself swaying whilst even in the seat. The lights over the stage turned a lush rich scarlet as well as a rich dark orange, but then there was a small kiss of violet mixed in there. The colors of wine and passion, as well as the color of temptation. Everyone knew what Captain Howdy didn’t, and Christine couldn’t help but relish in that very thought.

The song turned out to be a six minute jam session with a slower groove near the end, and she couldn’t help but think of all the times she had been sexy for him. She kept this thought firmly in mind by the time the applause erupted behind her, and she lifted her hands up over her head to give them the biggest round of them all.

There was a five minute break between the main set as well as their encore, and this gave her time to double back to the bar to talk to Valentina and Eric, both of whom were still at work on their drinks.

“Is it just me or does it seem like he’s showing off to you?” Valentina asked her in a loud voice.

“I have no doubt in my mind that he is,” Christine replied with a nod and a knowing smile on her face. Valentina flashed her a wink and a quick raise of the brim of her hat at her. Eric showed her a smirk and a nod as he took a sip of his drink.

“I reckon the dragon lotion right here behind me has been trying to show off to you, too—and big time, no less,” Valentina continued with a lean into her face; given it was noisy in there, there was no way Eric could hear them. Christine smirked and nodded her head at that. A boy then strode on up from behind her in a plain white shirt tucked into nicely fitted blue jeans, to which he greeted Eric with a firm grip of the hand followed by a quick hug.

“Also… this is Chuck,” Valentina introduced him to her. “He tells Eric and me he’ll be joining us at school come the fall.”

Christine raised her eyebrows at him and the head full of mousy curly hair about his head. She could not explain it but the way he looked made her think he was somehow related to Alex: indeed, she flashed back on the old picture of Alex which she had seen the year before, and she wondered if this new boy was, in some way, his long lost nephew. When he smiled, he showed her a pair of cute little dimples in his cheeks.

“Mr. Chuck,” Christine greeted him with a firm handshake. “There’s Indian Chuck and now there’s curly-headed Chuck.”

“Nah, I would be ‘evil Chuck,’” he corrected her.

“Why ‘evil’?” she asked him.

“Why not?” Eric then chimed in.

“It would make hell of a nickname for a culinary student, too,” Chuck then added.

“One of those culinary kids, eh?” Christine asked him with her hands pressed to her hips.

“It was either that or become a vet,” he explained. “And I love animals too much to have to watch them die.”

“That’s so sweet,” Valentina declared.

“You play music, too, don’t you?” Eric asked him.

“Yeah, I’m a guitar player like Alex,” Chuck said with a crane of his neck. When he said that, the lights turned low again and Christine clapped her hands.

“Part two!” she declared, and Eric followed her back up towards the stage with his glass in hand. Christine didn’t mind in the least, but she was somewhat curious about that other boy Chuck, especially when he posted up next to Valentina there at the bar.

The curiosity was somewhat short-lived as Alex laid down some blues for her and Eric as well as the rest of the Iridium. At that point, he had opened up the top buttons of his shirt to show off most of his chest and the way his sprigs of dark hair seemed to bloom like leaves of grass; Christine thought about going up there and running her fingers through his chest hair, just to feel him some more. She had no idea what to expect that evening as Alex gave his hair a toss back with the flick of his head, and his hair spread back over his shoulders once again.

His face was warmth, rosy even, and his lips seemed a little fuller than usual as well. She could tell that he had had a bit to drink backstage, a little wine from the cooler back in the dressing room.

There was a big part of her that didn’t want him to drink so much, especially when his body seemed so soft and tender: she grimaced at the thought of alcohol doing considerable damage to his softness. But at the same time, she loved how loose he got after even a single glass of wine. The barrier and that calm cool demeanor lifted, and she was met with his sweetness and softness in its rawest form.

The trio played four songs for their encore before they doubled back into the backstage area, at which Alex bestowed Christine with a single kiss blown in her direction. She patted her chest from the gesture, and then she glanced over at Eric, who raised his eyebrows at her. She could see the droop in his eyes and the slight rosy quality of his face, a much more prominent glow to his skin than the one Alex had just a moment ago.

“Are you drunk?” she asked him with a slight chuckle. The lights lifted and the floor of the Iridium stirred itself alive to head on back home.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Eric replied with a nod. “If I am, you know it’d be more than worth it. I think I took a cab here.”

“I think you did, too,” she recalled, also with a nod. She stood to her feet, and she put her arm around him. Eric rubbed his eyes, and he stood up, albeit with a slight wobble to his step. He hiccuped and giggled, to which Christine set her free hand on his chest.

“I gotta get home,” he breathed out as Christine guided him towards the door by the bar.

“I know,” she cooed to him.

“I gotta get home and in bed,” he repeated.

“I know you do…” She craned her neck to see Valentina was walking out of the club by herself: for a second, Christine believed her to be interested in that new boy Chuck. But she waved over at her and brought a hand in the shape of a phone to her ear. She mouthed the words “see you later, call me” to her, and Christine nodded at her.

“I need to find a way back home,” Eric continued blathering.

“I’ll flag down a cab for you,” she promised him as she pushed open the door for him. They were greeted by warm evening air and orange light from the street, and Eric turned to her with a sleepy smile on his round face.

“Oh, Chris,” he said with a gentle tap of her nose. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“Oh, you know, I’m just doing what I can,” she assured him, and she raised her arm up for the few cabs coming down the street before them. One pulled up in front of them, and she brought Eric closer to the side door. She opened the door to greet the driver. “He’s had a little too much to drink. He lives all the way down in Queens.”

“You got it—good thinking, lady,” the driver replied in a thick Long Island accent.

“I got the forty-five bucks,” Eric sputtered out, and then he returned to Christine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” she told him as she held out her arms for him.

“Ohhh, yeah, of course—hugs—” They embraced, and then she guided him into the backseat. He strapped himself in, and she shut the door and patted on the roof with both hands. Eric rode off into the darkness, and once she saw the cab round the corner, she returned to the door of the Iridium, and she began on back into the backstage area. Nathan and Matt were packing up for the night, but Alex was nowhere to be seen.

Nathan showed her a grin.

“He’s upstairs waiting for you,” he told her.

“I certainly hope so,” she said in a singsong voice; she gave Matt a fist bump and then she strode over to the stairwell at the far end, of which led up to the second floor.

Indeed, there was a small spare room up there, one with the door slightly ajar: a narrow ribbon of golden light cast on the wall to the right of her. She peeked in through the door to find Alex reclining back on a queen-sized bed with his arms spread over the pillows on either side of him. Nathan was not exaggerating when he said he was waiting for her.

Christine slowly pushed the door open with one hand, and Alex showed her a little grin.

“Hey, you,” she greeted him; it was a small cozy room, big enough to contain the bed as well as a chaise lounge and a small bedside table with a heavy, wrought iron lamp without a shade: the single lightbulb cast pale yellow light over his face and his smooth hair to where he seemed softer than usual.

“Quite a night,” he replied with a flick of an eyebrow: his glasses stayed perched just on the bridge of his nose, such that he could look over the top of the rims at her. She padded into the room and nudged the door closed right behind her so they could have privacy.

“Indeed it was,” she remarked. “I really liked that one song, ‘Hot and Heavy.’”

“Had a feeling you would,” he told her. “I wrote it yesterday, in fact. I wrote it with you in mind, too.”

Christine licked her lips and leaned over the top of the board, right by his bare feet.

“You look really sexy with your shirt open like that,” she told him in a low voice.

“Come on closer, and I’ll open it more for you,” he promised her.

Christine then kicked off her shoes and hung her purse over the poster of the bed. She peeled off her shirt and let it hang over the footboard; she crawled over the bed to be close to him. He hooded his eyes, and indeed, against his cologne, she could smell the wine on his lips. It was then she realized that he had opened the window over the bed, and they were met with the sounds of the city and the warmth of the evening as they both flooded into the room.

“I actually never want this summer to end,” she confessed to him, “even with as much as I love the fall now and as much as I think of the day that you and I met each other. I’m always going to associate fall with you and me on that day.”

Alex ran his fingers through his hair, and the roots of his gray streak poked out like a flash of lightning, and he fluttered his eyelids at her.

“You know what, I think I will, too,” he replied. “Fall and pieces of pie.”

“Pieces of pie for your little belly.” Christine reached over and lovingly patted him there, to which he bowed his head and showed her a coy little smile. Even after he had taken the stage that night, his skin still carried a soft rosy glow to it, as if he had been tucked down in his bed all night.

She leaned in closer to his face as if to kiss him, and he closed his eyes and slightly parted his lips as if to prepare for the feeling. But she instead moved in closer to the side of his face.

“I want you to lay down next to me,” she whispered into his ear, at which she took in the warm aroma of his cologne as well as the soap embedded in the roots of his hair; he still smelled good even after a night of sweating and letting down loose on the stage. “I want you to lay down next to me, and I want you to be so close to me that you can scarcely breathe.” Christine slithered her tongue along her bottom lip as if she prepared to taste him. The taste of sin and decadence on the back of a glass of lush red wine.

Alex kept his eyes hooded at the sight of her in front of him, and very carefully, he nudged the glasses up the bridge of his nose. She brought her face down to his chest to kiss him on the collar bones. She then ran her fingers through the hair growing on his chest at the same time: the fine little curls wound around her fingers. He shook a little bit from the feeling, and he let out a low whistle as well.

She lifted her head to be face to face with him and his cherry lips: a stray lock of hair dangled down into his face, right across his glasses.

“Let’s stay the night here,” he offered her in a near whisper.

“Please,” she whispered to him. She lifted her hands to undo the buttons of his shirt for him. He returned the favor by unbuttoning her bra for her. He brought his lips to her breasts as part of a good night kiss to her, and he tucked his hand in between her legs once she lay down next to him. Christine slept in that bed with her breasts pushed against his bare chest, and she awoke the next morning still with her arms around his thick waist and with the kiss of the morning breeze on the crown of her head and the crest of her hip.

Alex stirred a bit, but she could tell he was awake.

“Never leave me,” she breathed into his ear. “Please, on the tail of a sunrise… never leave me.”

Alex never opened his eyes as he moved his lips over to her own lips: a smooth lock of hair swept over the side of her face and her nose. He let his hand slide up the curvature of her back towards her shoulder blades, and he tugged her in closer to his body, as close as she knew he could take it. Christine buried her head into his chest to hear his heartbeat.

She closed her eyes, only to be met with the buzzing sound of his phone up on the table right next to the bed. She pictured Captain Howdy’s name on the screen there on the back, especially when she knew that it was the early hours of the morning. The phone kept on buzzing, even as Alex gripped onto his own wrist at Christine’s upper back.

“I am never letting you go,” he vowed to her in a soft voice. “Hell or high water. Damn the torpedoes. Even with the wedding band on my finger, I am never letting you go.” She could feel his fingers creeping up the crest of her back, to which he let his fingers twirl around the locks of her hair, and it was there she was glad she took out her ponytail, even in the face of the summer heat, hell or high water.

[nuagederose]

octavius | alan 🌹

[nuagederose]

eric and alex 🥧

[nuagederose]

alex and christine 🖤

(different one: in seasons grey, her last name is peck; here, her name is blackwater)

[nuagederose]

“I ain’t quitting you ’cause we’re taking over this town.”

[nuagederose]

this bloody awful year wasn’t going to end without a final insult to injury, wasn’t it.

this whole thing is actually giving me physical symptoms, too: i woke up with a headache this morning and my poor stomach’s acting up again. “fyp syndrome” has very real consequences, especially when it means potentially completely nuking artists’ careers.

threads is going this way, too, and fast. it used to be i’d go on and see art galore over there: now it’s all political stuff, recommendations, and things friends have retweeted. it quite literally went from 2012 to 2017/2018 twitter within a manner of weeks.

in fact—this sounds hella weird when i say it out loud, but—i’m actually seeing it on facebook of all places: recommending posts to me that the algorithm thinks i would like rather than seeing my friends’ posts or from pages i follow (i guess there was a way to rectify this but… keyword there is “was”. either i’m an idiot or they moved it because i can’t do it now). this whole thing has become the echo chamber effect of 2016 but worse; i was naïve to think the world learned from 2016.

the only places that, i feel are not falling under the spell of this are, ironically, tumblr and the fanfic archives (ao3 and squidgeworld). though if i’m honest, tumblr is getting dangerously close to this: the tags are a complete mess (they’ve actually been a mess for several years but more so the case now), ads and videos are a dime a dozen, i feel like an old lady scrolling through the tags and seeing lingo and “humor” straight out of tiktok, and aside from tumblr radar… art is fading from view, despite my following several art blogs.

i never thought artists would be the canary in the coal mine, but here we are. when art starts disappearing, that’s a sign of something going horribly wrong on a social scale. and to really make matters worse: the tiktok generation, brainwashed and incoherent as they are, has been trying to tiktok-ify ao3, even though ao3 (god fucking bless them) simply doesn’t allow it to happen, they just put it in the “freeform” tag and call it a day—or they delete it because op was treating it like their tumblr instead of making a fic, god forbid.

“you have to create content!” i will never “create content”, ever. you can’t make me. we may have been at your wedding, but you got another thing coming if you think we’ll be at your wake.

[nuagederose]

❄️ drawcember 2024 // day four: angels ❄️

101 pounds down and still a lil chubby 🤷🏻‍♀️😇

ig: badmotorartist

[nuagederose]

if you follow me on ig, if you’ve seen my story, you might have seen me mention that instagram is actually going to remove the ability to follow hashtags i think it’s next week—i guess it’s to resolve the whole thing of people adding completely unnecessary tags to posts, but who knows—but doing this will render them basically useless. it’s going to go by way of the “for you” page (“fyp syndrome” as i like to call it) and recommend shit to you based on what you like. the whole tiktok-ification of every social media platform in existence is singlehandedly going to destroy art because it’s going to force us to either jump ship or “create content” rather than art.

so, it really makes me question my place there.

[nuagederose]

❄️ drawcember 2024 // day three: mistletoe ❄️

who wants a kiss? 💋

ig: badmotorartist

[nuagederose]

❄️ drawcember 2024 // day two: penguins ❄️

vostok and her crew 🐧

ig: badmotorartist

[nuagederose]

❄️ drawcember 2024 // day one: evergreen ❄️

“lotta sap, lotta sap… looks okay!” 🌲

ig: badmotorartist

[nuagederose]

Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter Twenty: Lucky You

ao3 link

The heat of the heart of summer was immense come the trio show, and Christine was still expecting the insider’s deal that Alex had offered her at breakfast. As far as she knew, it had to do with the way he kissed her and grew close to her, but there was a part of her that felt it had to do with school. The first day came after Labor Day, which was coming faster than she realized, and she knew that there was still time to change into a different elective of any sort. She thought about the deadline for new electives, and she remembered to ask him once he came to pick her up for the show.

All she could think about was the feeling of fall on her face and neck, the scent of the leaves changing colors and falling forth from the trees on his street once again. The return of her green jacket once again. The return of laying snuggled up next to Alex in the safety of his bed, and of course, the school day following their encounter once again.

Even with the heat of the summertime, she still wanted to do those things. Fall was only two months away after all.

Christine put on a stretchy green camisole under a light silk shirt paired with little denim shorts which showed off most of her legs: she remembered how much Alex would let his eyes wander down from her hips all the way down to her feet, even with her thick shapely legs. Her hair up in a snug ponytail and a spritz of her perfume which smelled of cherry blossoms across her chest and neck, and she headed out the door towards the street: Wendy was running some errands that evening, and thus, the apartment across the hallway was completely silent. Nevertheless, Christine headed out for the street with her purse over her shoulder and her hands tucked into her shorts pockets.

She stood by the curb of the sidewalk with the sides of her silk shirt pushed back by her forearms. She hoped that Alex would recognize her thick figure even with the light of the day fading out into nightfall and the amber lights of the street lamps casting down over her head and shoulders.

Indeed, after a few minutes, a pair of headlights turned the corner up the street and headed towards her. She shielded her eyes with her hand, and the car rolled up to the curb before her, and she noticed the passenger window rolled down for her to see inside. Alex showed her a little buck-toothed smile and those horn-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, close to the tip.

“Who’s that girl!” he sang out. “Who’s that girl!” He reached across the seat and nudged the door open, and then he reached down and patted the seat next to him. Christine gave her ponytail a good toss back, and then she climbed in next to him. She greeted him with a kiss on the side of his neck and she buckled into the seat.

“You smell good,” he told her, and he kept the smile on his face.

“As do you,” she retorted, and she showed him a smile as well. Through the dim light, she noticed his lowering his gaze to her chest followed by her legs, to which he responded by a gentle nibble on the bottom lip.

“Feel my legs,” she invited him, and he reached down and caressed the tops of her thighs. He hooded his eyes at her and the smooth feeling of her skin, and he ran his tongue along his bottom lip out of sheer desire.

“I’m guessing I’ll get it later tonight,” he said in a low voice.

“If you’d like,” she said, and she leaned in closer to his face. “If you would like… but maybe…” She lowered her voice to a near whisper as she came within his full cherry lips to beckon a kiss from him. “…just maybe, we could have a little bit of ice cream following the gig.” She swiped his lips, and he shivered from the feeling. Christine giggled at him as she leaned back and rested her hands onto her knees. Alex fanned himself with the side of his hand and let out a low whistle. He then put his car into drive and they rolled forth into the incoming balmy darkness.

The windows rolled down, and not a single thought of Captain Howdy to be found there in the safety of his car.

“So, we’re going to be there before Matt and Nate show up,” he told her as they pulled up to the first stoplight, “which means you and I can have a little bit of pre-Fourth of July festivities of our own.” He flashed her a wink.

“Oh, you know I’m down for some pre-show partying,” Christine vowed to him, and she couldn’t resist showing him a smile in return. He then reached over and stroked the top of her thigh again, that time with the mere tips of his fingers. At the same time, she let her eyes wander over to the full, rounded shape of his waist, and with fall coming in two months, she hoped that he would keep that belly intact for when the days grew shorter and the nights grew colder and she needed something to hold onto on those nights.

Indeed, as they sat there at the stoplight, a gentle breeze blew through the street before them. The Fourth of July and the middle of summer, and yet there was something about that breeze that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

“My hope is that there will be some good pies there tonight,” he said in a low voice.

“Like a cherry pie?” she asked him.

“Cherry or blueberry,” he replied, and the light turned green. “Either of those with some whipped cream on top.” They rolled forth up the street into the thick of Queens in search of Broadway. On any other night, it would have been a straight shot from Queens across the river and into the East Village, and then into Manhattan. But since it was the Fourth of July, they crossed the bridge and then he hung a right onto FDR Drive once they had cleared it: they skirted along the black waters of the East River to avoid that dense, midtown traffic. Christine peered out his window to see the Flatiron Building and the Empire State Building, both of which rose high up over the city skyline in glittering fashion: the latter of which showed off the red, white, and blue highlights for the occasion. The sun had gone down, and the fireworks were about to launch off in about an hour or so.

Alex took the left turn at 51st Street, and something told Christine that they had completely avoided all that midtown traffic, especially when she realized that Rockefeller Center was the next block over.

“God, you’re good,” she remarked as they caught the lights green all the way down to the heart and soul of Broadway; they passed Radio City Music Hall, which looked to be as alive as ever that evening.

“Says the girl who’s from here!” he declared with a hearty chuckle.

“Says the girl who’s from here, yes.” Christine couldn’t help but chuckle at that herself.

“The challenge now, of course, is finding a parking space,” he remarked as the next light turned green and he crossed over for the back side of the Iridium. The entire curb outside of the neon-clad club had been slammed with cars, even on the one-way street of 7th Avenue.

Alex rounded the next corner up, which turned out to be Broadway itself, but it made Christine think of an alleyway: he was the band, after all, and he was bringing her along with him.

But he was careful to pull in there, however, given the Gershwin Theater and the vast Paramount Plaza right across the street looked to be slammed for the evening as well.

“All else fails, we go over to the diner next block over and park there,” he said, and then he hung another right. “I get paid after tonight’s gig, so I only have money for either that or parking at the Paramount.”

“Because if it’s too late for us to go back home, we can always have a late dinner,” she followed along. 

“And right you are, Christine Sixteen.” He massaged her knee again, that time with only the very tips of his fingers, and that time, she flinched her leg back. He showed her a smirk as they crawled up the block for the cozy-looking diner on the corner. There were plenty of spots for them to take, even though the dinner rush was about to take place. Alex bounded into the parking lot and took the spot closest to the driveway.

“A bit of a walk but,” he said as he switched off the car, “it ain’t that bad.”

“It’ll be romantic, too,” Christine pointed out as she picked her purse up from the floor.

Alex fetched his guitar case and the accompanying amp from the back seat, whereby he slung the former over his shoulder and carried the latter in one hand. Before Christine could offer to hold onto his amp, his fingers curled around the side of her hand, to which she responded by interlocking her own fingers with his. She glanced up at him and the little smile on his face: he wasn’t showing off his teeth or presenting her with a smirk, but rather, a sweet smile, something as sweet as the summer heat around them. It was only about a block away but Christine wished it was a little longer than that, just so she could feel Alex’s hand for a little while longer.

Longer. More. That was all she wanted, more.

He never let go of her hand even as they crossed the street and reached the smoky front doors. He held the door for her, and she treated him to a kiss on the cheek.

The Iridium was alive that evening, with people from all walks of life coming forth to see Alex’s trio on the Day of Independence. Red and blue neon lights suspended from the ceiling shone down over their heads like a shower of sparks courtesy of the fireworks show down by Lady Liberty. Alex huddled closer to her as if to hide his hand from any prying eyes around them.

Christine meanwhile glanced over to her left to see the bar on the side of the room, whereby she noticed the black cap with the head of matching black hair underneath, as well as the smooth black hair next to it—

“Valentina!” she called out.

“Where?” Alex glanced about the intimately lit room.

“Over there—” She pointed over to the bar, and right as Valentina herself turned her head so they could see the side of her face.

“I’m gonna get ready,” Alex told her right into her ear. “Tell them I said ‘hi’.”

“Gladly!” Christine finally let go of his hand and scurried over to the bar.

“Val!” she declared, and she waved her arm over her head. Valentina’s face lit up and she returned the favor, and then she stood to her feet and opened her arms for Christine. Eric nodded over at her, and his smooth black hair shimmered right across the crown of his head. He then offered her hugs, to which he held onto her for a good long time.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it,” Christine declared as the three of them congregated there at that side of the bar..

“We got here early,” she replied. “Well, when I say ‘we’, I mean me. I came here alone while Eric showed up at the same time.”

“We were just gonna order drinks, too,” Eric told her. “You want anything?”

“Oh, yeah, I could definitely use a cold one,” Christine declared, and no sooner had the words left her lips when Alex returned from behind them.

“A little bit of Irish coffee for the little lady in green over here,” he declared to the bartender.

“Irish coffee and not a mudslide or a Dirty Monkey?” she asked him with a raise of her eyebrow at him.

“I just overheard someone say they’re out of chocolate syrup,” he told her with a shrug. “It was either that or a fuzzy navel.”

“The fuzzy navel or your fuzzy navel?” she teased him.

“When the show’s done, I’ll turn you to my fuzzy navel,” he teased her right back with a straight face, and Christine playfully swatted at him.

“Shhhh!” She couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“What? Valentina and Eric don’t seem to mind, and Nate and Matt aren’t here yet.” He continued to show her the little smile on his face, that playful, lopsided little smile filled with his bucked teeth accompanied with a little twinkle in his eye, as if he was up to no good.

“Ooh, Nate and Matt aren’t here yet,” Valentina teased right then.

“And yeah, we don’t mind at all, either,” Eric assured her. “Have a little sex on the beach with a screaming orgasm on Alex’s fuzzy navel.” The four of them erupted into laughter, complete with Alex himself playfully slapping Eric on the back.

“Missed you, Sluggo,” he said.

The bartender then returned to Christine with a glass of Irish coffee in hand, in all its rich dark texture like that of melted chocolate with a thick foam on top like a pint of Guinness. Valentina then asked for a sex on the beach while Eric took a Manhattan for himself.

“Ooh, that sounds good, hit me up for one those, too,” Alex then chimed in. Christine sipped on the Irish coffee, which was a little bit on the strong side but not too much, however. She could drink it down and feel the creaminess of the foam with the bite of the whiskey and the warmth of the coffee. Once Alex had his Manhattan in hand, he turned back to her with a slight hooded look to his eyes and a gentle nudge of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“So… since Nate and Matt aren’t here yet, you wanna go backstage and chill for a bit?” he offered her.

“Please,” she replied as she sipped on the coffee again.

“We’re going backstage back here, Val,” she heard Eric say to Valentina, who then giggled and flashed Christine a knowing look.

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys later,” Christine assured them in a low voice, and she followed Alex to the dimly lit corridor around the far side of the stage to the back part. Once he stood before the dressing room door, he set down his amp and took out a key.

“Yeah, they literally are not here,” he told her. “I had to get the key to my dressing room really quick.” He unlocked the door and nudged it open for the two of them, to which he reached inside and turned on the light. It was there that Christine picked up his amp from the floor and carried it into the room.

“Why, thank you, my dear,” he said with a certain warmth in his voice.

Once inside the cozy dressing room with the one wall painted red and the other three being pale, cleanly scrubbed brick, she closed the door behind them and set the amp down on the floor next to the sofa. She sipped on her Irish coffee some more, to which he responded with a sip of his Manhattan, which was that rich, sensual amber color to complement the darkness of her coffee,

“You sure you wanna be drinking before the show?” she asked him.

“Sometimes it helps,” he assured her with a wink and a picking of the cherry on top. He rested it on his tongue, and he set the glass down on the table before the vanity mirror, and he closed his mouth and adjusted his glasses once more. “Especially in this setting here, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, I do catch your drift,” Christine promised him. “I catch your drift so well, you lucky nerdy boy you—” She still held onto her Irish coffee as she stood up on her toes and lightly kissed him on the lips, which thus tasted of cherries: cherries and the sweetest of sin. He rested a hand on the small of her back while she leaned in closer his body. It was a balmy summer night, and yet she still had the thought of fall firmly on her mind: the thought of fall with the thought of curling up next to him.

“Alex… Alex… what’s the deadline for selecting a new elective?” she whispered into his face.

“August twenty-sixth,” he replied as he held back for a glimpse right into her face. “We’ve got to get on that paperwork stat lest we not see each other again during the quarter.” He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and then he showed her the tip of his tongue. “I wish I had another cherry, I can show you how to tie the stem with my tongue.”

“Ah, I think you should beware the stem on my tongue,” Christine retorted, to which he let out a low whistle at that. She slipped her tongue into his mouth for the dance of the hallucinogens when a knock on the door interrupted them.

“Alex? You in there?” Nathan’s voice sounded through the door panel.

“Yeah, I’m in,” Alex called back, and then he returned to Christine. “Let’s put a pin in that.” He flashed her another wink, and she showed him a little smile as she backed off. She all but stumbled out of there as Nathan and Matt filed in for the preparation before the show: the two of them grinned at her there with her glass of Irish coffee still very much in hand.

“What, you guys took a cab?” Alex then asked, slightly taken aback.

“Yeah, why not?” Nathan asked back, and that was the last thing she heard before she headed back out to the floor section.

Christine, Valentina, and Eric were down in front together as Alex resurfaced out from the backstage area, guitar slung over his shoulder and his little amp down on the floor next to Matt’s drum kit. He then gestured for Christine to come in closer to him, especially with the wall of sound already forming between the stage and the floor.

“You wanna spend the night here?” he suggested to her. “We both have had a little too much to drink, and I know I won’t feel like going home after all of this, either.”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s sleep in the back seat of your car, though. You know, just because I worry about us getting caught in there.”

“Of course! But… let me tell you something, though.” He glanced back right as Nathan and Matt resurfaced as well and the lights turned low.

“There is something of a spare room upstairs. I’ll show you afterwards.” She smiled as she sat back down with her coffee and Eric and Valentina, both of whom were going to be in for one hell of a story afterwards.

[nuagederose]

Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter Nineteen: Alone in Brooklyn

ao3 link

Christine rolled over onto her back, only to feel something soft and warm right next to her. She opened her eyes, and she rolled her head over the surface of the pillow to which she beheld the slumbering face of Alex right next to her. He had taken off his glasses and rested them on the desk next to the bed: a stray lock of hair spread over his face and the bridge of his nose, all the way down to his full lips. An older gentleman, and yet he never looked more boyish than he did there. She smiled at him when she remembered that he had spent the night in her bed after that round with the ribbon.

She put her arm around his full waist and nuzzled her face into the side of his neck to better take in his essence and his aroma. His hair was soft and plush, a stark contrast from the coarseness she had acquainted herself with. How she wanted him to be with her in her bed every morning all summer long, even on the hot days where the sweat was undeniable. His skin was soft and smooth, and he smelled so raw and sweet. Christine pressed her lips onto the side of his neck, and he treated her to a tender little smile. She slid her hand up his belly onto his chest all to feel his tender silken skin; he never opened his eyes for a second as she moved her hand down onto his belly again, and that time, she gave him the sweetest little pat on his flesh. Her lips on his neck again, and he ran his fingers through his dark hair: the roots of his gray streak showed themselves to her like little glints of silver embedded in the earth.

Christine put her hand on the side of his face, and she gave him a soft kiss on the other side.

“Treating me so well,” he breathed out; his voice was low and velvety, and she couldn’t help but lower her hand back to his belly again.

“Treating you so well when you’re really sexy,” she whispered into his ear.

“Yeah, the sexy fat guy who’s got gray hairs the size of a Circle K,” he quipped, and she giggled and buried her face into the side of his chest. She then lifted her head and gazed into his sleepy face, to which he opened his eyes to look on at her.

“And you’re not fat, either,” she assured him.

“I am fat—I’ve got a potbelly,” he insisted, and she gently rubbed his skin.

“You’re chubby,” she assured him, “and very cute.” She kissed the side of his neck again, and when she thought she was going to make love with him again, she knew that he would have to leave for the day, and especially with her mother home as well.

“Would you like a bit of breakfast?” she offered him.

“Please,” he replied; he ran his fingers through his black hair with one hand; he rested his other hand on his bare belly. “There is actually nothing I want more right now than something to eat.” He then raised his eyebrow at her. “Unless you wanna take breakfast to something else, some other level.”

Christine cupped her hand on the side of his face, and she kissed him on the lips. His skin was soft and plush, and he almost tasted sweet as well.

“Maybe after I get your belly full and have you around my finger some more,” she suggested, and she showed him a little smile as she lifted herself off of him and let her hair dangle down towards his face.

“We should eat and drink and be merry all the way to Hanukkah,” he suggested as well. “Then we’ll really feast.” Christine squinted her eyes at him, especially when she remembered the wedding.

“Are you suggesting that you’re going to make a complete piggy of yourself on your big day?” she asked him with a few skips of her heartbeat.

“Not really,” he replied. “But you and I will have plenty of feasts, though.” He flashed her a wink and sat upright next to her, and he picked out his glasses from the desk right next to them, and he put them on. He showed her a sweet little smile with a slight bow to his head, like that of the shy boy with a crush. Christine hooded her eyes at him, and then she leaned into his face again for another tender little kiss on those cherry lips.

“Let’s wine and dine,” she suggested with a mischievous smile. “Order in. And I want you to eat, and I want you to never stop eating, either.”

“Scrambled eggs embedded with pesto, onions, and bell peppers accompanied with a fat stack of pancakes covered in butter, blueberries, and maple syrup,” he requested in a single breath. “And then I want a slice of apple pie à la mode.”

Christine leaned in and kissed him on the lips again, that time with a caress of her tongue.

“When you say ‘fat stack’, how many is that?” she asked him.

“Five,” he replied. “I gotta have room for my slice of pie with ice cream.” He hooded his eyes at her, and the glasses slid down the bridge of his nose a bit.

“I was just thinking about having a pair of Liège Belgian waffles with some butter and a cup of coffee but I kind of feel like you could hold so much more in that tummy of yours,” she teased him in a single breath.

“I feel things getting tight already,” he said, and he ran his tongue around his lips. Christine leaned back in closer to his face again, that time with both hands on either side for a touch more fire to the feeling of her lips. Alex relaxed his shoulders and bumped out his chest enough for her to feel him; she slithered her tongue into his mouth to taste him some more before she strode into the kitchen for a drink of water and a fresh pot of coffee for the two of them.

“Mmm… this is so good,” he remarked in a low voice once she moved her head back away from him for a good long look into his deep eyes. Christine licked her lips and climbed off the bed to put on a clean pair of shorts and a camisole as well as open the windows for the brand-new summer’s day. The sweet breeze found its way into the apartment right as she ordered them breakfast from the diner not too far from the complex.

Once she hung up the phone, she ran a hand through her hair, and Alex surfaced from the bathroom with nothing more than his pajama shorts on; Christine showed him a smile as she lay eyes on his tall, shapely body, as bare and gorgeous as she could ever imagine.

“You look very cute,” she told him as she padded into the kitchen.

“It’s warm in here,” he declared with a gentle rub of his chest; he flexed his fingers in his chest hair, much to her pleasure.

“Hence why I opened the windows,” she assured him, and he gave his hair a little toss with the flick of his head, and then he nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the back of his knuckle. He stood in the doorway of the living room and pressed his hands to his hips. Once she began to clean out the filter of the coffee maker, Christine let her eyes fall to the full shape of his body, which seemed to glow under the soft morning sunlight coming in from the front window.

“You look hungry,” she remarked.

“I am absolutely famished,” he said as he slowly ran his hand down his rounded belly. Christine took her spot at her table and propped her chin up in the palm of her hand. She watched him pad into the kitchen, still with one hand on his bare skin. He picked out the mug from the counter and poured himself a cup of that fresh black coffee. She let her eyes graze over the shape of his body, from his height to the full shape that enticed her so.

It was so sweet to think about, that the two of them were alone together in her apartment, and with Wendy home right across the way no less. It was still early in the morning and no music from the other side of the hallway, and thus, they could be alone.

“Where’s the trio show going to be again?” Christine asked him.

“The Iridium,” he replied before he sipped on his coffee. “I’ll come and get you if you’d like.”

“Please,” she insisted, and he took his spot there at the table next to her. He ran his fingers through his black hair, and the roots of his streak peeked out at her like a rabbit poking its head out of the hole. “Let’s hang out backstage afterwards.”

“Hang out backstage and maybe Valentina and Eric can join us, too?” he offered.

“Absolutely,” she said as he took another sip of coffee again. “I’m looking forward to seeing them again, even though Eric and I spent a whole week together out in California.” His face then lit up and snapped his fingers at her.

“School schedules are going to be dropping pretty soon,” he told her. “I hope this year is good for you.”

“Good for us,” she corrected him in a low voice, and he showed her a little smile at that.

“I’ll be teaching music theory as well as French literature again,” he said. “I’ll be teaching jazz, too, if you can believe it.”

“Ooh, I hope I can take that one at some point,” she decreed.

“Pfff, you just wanna be close to me and my big belly,” he teased her, and she giggled at him.

“But in all seriousness, I hope I can take it as an elective,” she insisted. “Because… I’ll admit it. I do wanna be close to you and your chubby belly. I also wanna know more jazz, too. It’s a world I only know a little tiny bit about from being around my grandparents, but it’s mostly an unknown to me.”

“Oh, you can get that from me right here,” he assured her. “In fact…” He leaned forward and folded his hands over the surface of the table. He hooded his eyes and showed her the tip of his tongue. “…I can give you somewhat of an insider’s deal, so you can get a head start if and when you do take my class.”

Christine squinted her eyes at him. She knew their breakfast was on its way, and she could still feel his hunger and his warmth even from a few feet away from him. She decided to go with the look in his eyes, the look that seduced her more than the kiss of a torrential rain.

“Does she know about this insider deal?” she asked him in a low voice.

“She does not,” he replied, also in a low voice and with a shake of his head. Christine licked her lips again, and she lowered her gaze to his full waist and his sinewy thighs, the latter of which were still wrapped up in his pajama shorts. She leaned in closer to him as if about to kiss him.

“Does the jazz world know how to kiss as well as you?” she asked him in a near whisper.

“Nope. But I can make it do that. Like how I would think you can make the art world kiss as well as you.”

Christine raised her hand to his chest to feel his skin and the sprigs of hair there. Her chest lifted from the rush of the feeling.

“Is the jazz world as sexy as you?” she asked him, and she could hardly contain herself with the feeling, either.

“It absolutely is.” He nearly breathed the words to her. She closed her eyes and prepared to kiss him, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Breakfast is here,” she told him, and she tapped her finger on the tip of her nose as she stood to her feet. She knew that her mother wasn’t awake yet, and thus, they could have breakfast together and he could be there with her all morning if he so wished.

[nuagederose]

🍂 inktober 2024 // day thirty-one: landmark 🍂

samantha before the oleander bush where cliff’s ashes were spread, complete with the view of the bridge.

happy halloween and blessèd samhain 🎃

ig + threads: badmotorartist