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The single side of things.
I really wish I could check out of this race.. Maybe soon I’ll have to courage to do so.
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Day Three
It took several smoothies to get rid of the taste of the last few encounters. It was always the ones with bad diets that wanted you to swallow their seeds and it was enough to make you sick. Roy had been the latest conquest, a repayment for the flower over a week ago and he was a pretty special one. Salt and peppered hair on top of a leathery frame. He was in the late 60s, but in bed he didn’t seem like it at all, if it wasn’t for him constantly saying things like “baby girl” and other fatherly lines, he might have been a keeper. Something about his experience drove Justine wild, he gripped her firmly and moved passionately between her open thighs. He was the first to actually go down on her without a nudge and managed to curl the toes at that! A first for sure. Everything was perfect aside from his cum which tasted a little on the stale side, like a salt and tuna mix that he forced down the throat as he grinned, reminding her of a grandpa excited to see his granddaughter. Since Roy however, Justine had been focused on finding Marius again, the dream slowly becoming a myth of proportions the real person could not hope to fill.
It was little, but she had got news on him though. It seemed that two shoots had gone on at the compound, with their team starting just days before the second team was moved to France for another shoot. She couldn’t confirm it, but Heidi --the residential red haired, green eyed Irishwoman-- told a story about a chance meeting with a guy late in the hour while at a gathering. The story she told over lunch that day did not immediately sound like Marius however, too animated, too... modern, but the description was spot on down to his many rings. “He seemed like a lonely guy; cute, but lonely.” Heidi dunked her vegan doughnut in her coffee as to give it some flavor before continuing, “It was a pretty dope ass party though, lots of bulls stampeding about”. On and on she talked about this casting event that was held the very night Haans had spent with Justine, a event that Heidi was told about and apparently kept it to herself until now. The other girls listened intently with little gasps and cackles when a familiar name was mentioned, the thought of being around so many industry staples was magnificent in its own right.
While in hair and makeup for the final shoot of the day, Justine talked at length with the woman about the last shoot to take place, the one she was certain Marius was a part of. ((Editing in progress))
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Day Two
Again it was just a little after four a.m. and this time her sleep was interrupted by the light snoring of Haans next to her. He had done his duty like the others before him, but this itch she had growing in her required more of a personal touch to properly scratch. Justine undid her gown as she started to think about all the different men she had been with this week. Garrett was fun if not a bit goofy, Frank was the powerhouse, Benji was highly flexible and Ian was... Well whatever you call a minuteman with a large ego. Nothing was quite giving her the satisfaction she needed until she thought about Marius that time at the creek. She had almost forgot about him since it had been a week or so since she saw him last, chalking him up to being some figment of an overactive imagination though it’s just as likely that he got reassigned elsewhere. Justine swirled her clit with her finger, using the moistness of her lips to lube the area as she started to play with herself. It didn’t last for long however because just as quickly as Marius popped up, now did her mother and Justine stopped and started to think about her childhood. She wasn’t always like this, so free with her body, and yet it was probably her mother that drove her to this path beyond anything else.
Her mother was very conservative when she was growing up and it was that restrictive nature that she rebelled against the most, starting at age twelve with a cousin and continuing with various friends until it became a game to find and try out new lovers. She tried repeatedly to plunge her fingers deep within herself, but the flashbacks of her history ruined the mood and Haans made it no easier. He was one of the photographers who came with Mr. Tillers to help on the set and after the “nude paradise” shoot that she was a part of, he basically resorted to raping her with his gaze until she invited him up for ‘coffee’. He wasted no time smothering her with his lips, a wild frenzy of kissing and tongue sucking as he pushed her up against whatever was nearby as he slipped in and out of her being that she wore a lacy black dress with no underwear underneath. He loved the stubble she started to grow as he massaged it with his hand. She instantly became moist by his roughness and her body responded in kind by playfully fighting back against him so that he would be forced to restrain her. Her movements roused the wolf in him for sure because before she knew it, he had her face down in the sheets and was violently thrusting into her from behind unable to control himself as the bed started to rock and creak with each thrust. Justine couldn’t have asked for more in this moment as he gripped her hair and nibbled on her lobe while not missing a stroke, he was a master at using what he had even if it was not big at all.
Sadly though, the Haans she wanted this second was instead fast asleep as he shifted positions much like a dog with a nightmare. He was not a bad looking man; in fact, he very well could have been a model himself as long as it wasn’t underwear since his member while satisfactory enough, was still quite small for a man of his stature. He came off as the conceited type, a man born into vast fortunes and with that money he funded many ventures like the Arts, History and travel, all of which saw diminishing returns. He was sculpted like many men that frequented the pages of Klein or what have you: Beach blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun, a brown five o’clock shadow lining his face and lips, a tattoo of a English dragon upon his left breast with the tail curled around his nipple --an odd design for sure, but enticing nonetheless-- with a body clearly waxed of any hairy imperfections. He spoke with a distinct American accent however, possibly a native of the States and not Wales where his family was housed sometime after World War 2 or so he had said. He stood about 5′7, 5′6 without his shoes, and his hands were small, but powerful. He was truly a lot of man packed into a neat frame.
Justine sat up in the bed and studied him for a bit, how his chest rose and fell gently through light snores, how his boxers hung just low of his waistline or how he slept with one arm tucked behind his head and the other constantly fidgeting in and attempt to find its own home. She mused over how filthy his language became during sex, maybe an act put on for her, or something that got him off, either way it was mostly distracting and downright hilarious the first time he uttered ‘I’m sending you to Boomtown’ before inserting himself into her ass for the finishing thrusts of the first round for the evening. She could tell that this sort of thing came easy to him; sleeping around with beautiful women that is, she wondered who else on the assignment that he had laid into with his cheesy lines and half chubbed cock. No; he was not bad, but this was only another notch in the belt for her after all, love could wait until the end of time and then wait some more if it was up to her. She played the scenario over and over in her head, how he’d wake up and gather his things from around the room and attempt to say some line that might allude to wanting to see her again, but Justine knew that even if her head shook yes, she would decline him, forever bored of planting her flag twice in one area. Her appetite had been steadily growing as of late for something a little more chaotic.. a bit more punishing while not being anywhere near what she experienced that other time.
Before long, the clock flashed five a.m., an early sunrise was hitting the window and she crossed the hotel room to run a hot shower. The droplets fell upon her skin like meteors, each one as hot as could be until her body adjusted. No bugs this time, no painful bruises on her arms, no gashes to speak of. Haans, if nothing else, was a perfect gentleman in bed and she could hear the jingle of his ringtone as he yawned and talked to himself a bit, it was quite apparent that he did not intend to spend the night. Justine chuckled to herself a bit, reminded of the days long ago when she would sneak out of windows before wives and girlfriends came home, how she was the other woman in some phone and how much of a rush it gave her that she could give a man what the woman they married couldn’t.
Haans poked his head into the bathroom, his lungs filling with the steam and bathing oils as he bid Justine farewell, claiming to have needed to rush because he was late for an appointment, but he was really avoiding being seen by other staff awaking and moving about, sleeping with a co-worker after eye fucking for a week straight? Scandalous. Justine told him bye as he quickly went for the door, understanding that the tan line on his finger was just what she expected it was, but who it was paired to she had no idea nor did she care. The shower ran for a bit longer while she stood and ran her fingers across the white tile. It would be her last few days at this location and though she longed for home for a bit, she was determined to Marius again,
to confirm the reality of her phantom..
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Day One
Last night had been another rough one, no matter how rigorous the scrub she applied, the bugs still found patches of exposed skin from which they crawled from and were washed down the drain. This had been almost routine lately, the beauty devoured by the many beasts with none of them being a prince in hiding. The throbbing pain felt on her body was almost unbearable as the hot water flowed from one bruise to the next; something makeup could easily cover, but a cautionary tale for other exploits. It started out so violent, a beating so vicious that it borderlined on criminal if not the initial desire expressed by the hookup the night before. He wasn’t a particularly handsome man at all. Balding, heavyset in that obesity and not that dad bod kinda way, kinda looked like that stereotypical kid diddler type, but his cock was thick in a way she had never before seen. His cum was dried to her hair and face, a crusted reminder of the awful evening and the guy who escaped into the moonlight the very second that he was done breaking his doll, a fucking insult along with the parting gift of what appeared to be a fistful of gold dollar coins scattered on the nightstand as a whore’s pittance for a job well done.
The entire hotel room smelled like him, a mixture of swamp ass and maybe fungus-- possibly from his sweaty feet-- but it was that dick that she couldn’t get her mind off of. He was the fifth conquest she’d had since reaching the new site for a model shoot, but around the twentieth since being in the U.S. proper. The men here were vastly different than the ones abroad, they fucked with purpose, greasy and inattentive, not like the sleazy charm European men try to put on. She let the water run a bit longer as she glanced at her arm. The marks weren’t as intense as first thought, a few scrapes and a bite mark, but it felt like so much more. The steam provided her with a moment of comfort, letting it envelop her as she moved to the vanity mirror, the condensation from the steam distorting the image into something akin to a beast or a demon, a perfect reflection of her broken soul she thought. She slowly wiped the glass with her hand, starting at eye level and carefully revealing the full picture swipe by swipe. The hazel contrasted well with the olive tone of her skin; a gift from her half Arabian and Italian heritage. She licked her lips in the mirror, it turned her on to see her own body, dripping and nude. She started to slip her hands down towards her inner thigh as her damp brown hair laid over her shoulders in messy strands, the net seemingly holding her fragile frame together, kind of like the soft embrace of a mothers arms. It was in this nakedness that she felt most like the devil, a name she had been called a lot in her life, a temptress, leading men and women to nights of sin. She fingered herself to orgasm as a calming washed over her and the vile insects that plagued her only earlier, disappeared without a trace. She sucked on her fingers as she took a comb to her now tangled hair and looked for the violet eye shadow. The day was going to be long since it would be a living forest set, but she embraced the prospect of meeting something else to sink her teeth into, but alas, it was not the time to dally nor daydream.
The air felt unusually stiff here in Washington, for a nature state, it had nothing like the crispness of Nantes, but it was far from the strangling cloud that hung over the last shoot in London. America was so enticing, and yet she longed to be back at home, playing in the alleyways of Nantes or exploring Paris for the thousandth time. Homesickness always hit when the madness of her schedule drove her to picking up cigarettes again. It wasn’t so much of an addiction, as it was one of many comforting tools she used, much like sex, but that may indeed be an addiction though she dared not admit it. “Mornin’ Miss Danbury!” A familiar voice called to her as soon as she crossed the terrace into the chateau du Corisca. The hotel was not far from the shooting grounds so it was easy for her to absentmindedly stroll about the place and take in the new sights of the compound. It was still quite early and yet models were already out and talking among themselves, it looked as if three new photographers joined the team recently and she bit her lip just thinking about taking one or all three for a delicious romp later. “Please” she said smiling sheepishly at the elderly gentleman before her, “I’m sure I’ve told you before to just call me Justine”. The old man looked her over and over, such an exotic beauty she was in an elegant strapless cream dress. He placed his hand upon her arm, a body well traveled and yet a posture so regal and poised. He bent down and reached into a splintering wicker basket and produced a lovely rose freshly snipped from the flowerbed and still with a hint of dew on it. “Every woman needs a rose” he said, and placed it in her hair just between the spot on ear and they spoke at length about today’s shoot. Apparently the project, once headed by Lady Applegate and her cosmetics company Applegate Cosmetics, was now to be completed by the young and talented visionary Ian Tillers from South Africa. He was causing quite a stir with the ladies it seemed which would explain the various cliques chatting about, but he was nothing if not a man for the business. Right now it was said that he had been in the garden all night perfecting the grounds for a perfect shot, each idea more fantastical and wondrous than the next and each new idea increasing the budget tenfold, but in increments. The ladies chosen for his special shoot, the “nude paradise” were to be posted on a board later that day, a list Justine would love to have seen herself on.
Waving bye to groundskeeper Roy, she observed the digital clock pressed up against a large white column and noticed that she still had some time to get into a bit of trouble if only she could find those new photographers and a proper place away from prying eyes to do so. The area was really beautiful, a hedge maze behind the building, a creek running to its side, it was a masterpiece of Gods design tucked beyond a sea of trees separating it from the road and nearby town. Across the grounds at the creek a little ways into the woods a man stood and he immediately caught her eye, someone else new that she had never seen before today though she had felt at least acquainted with everyone, probably a lackey for Tillers. He was half shrouded by leafy branches which drove Justine’s curiosity even further as she neared him, careful not to snag the dress on anything that would cause an immediate stir and a lecture on proper model behavior. The man appeared to be petting what appeared to be a small doe grazing from his outstretched hand, a sight that left her in awe and wonder since it was just something that she hadn’t seen in years. He had deep brown curtains-- a relic of nineties hairstyles-- more messy than straight over a slender and pointed face, his jawline was medium and boyish, his nose slender and rounded at the tip. He sported a very neat and short mutton chop and skin that showed limited exposure to sunlight though it wasn’t pasty white. Surely he was in his late twenties at the youngest, but his angelic features spoke to being far more youthful than that; regardless, she approached him.
“Excuse me,” Justine blurted out the words as she moved closer and closer, managing to startled the wildlife in the process including the doe who appeared to shoot her a look before bounding off into the woods. He let out a low whistle as he began brushing the grain from his hands and readjusting his silver bands-- one for each finger aside from the index which housed two and on the other hand a lavish signet ring-- he glanced at Justine for what felt like a second, but for some reason she felt as if he was gazing at her entire lifetime. His eyes were unsettling, he made no attempt to speak and yet Justine felt her ears ringing with conversation.. She hated this feeling, the unfamiliarity of not being able to get a read on a person. After a series of awkward pauses, Justine gathered herself and tried to initiate conversation with him once again, “I apologize for interrupting you,” her eyes locked in on his smooth face, but she was so shy, she resorted to circling her thumbs ever so slightly to calm her down but to not call attention to it. “I’m Justine, a model on this shoot. I didn’t recognize you from any of the other days so I take it you’re with Tillers?” She smiled and laughed, hoping to break the ice if even for a bit. “Marius” his voice was as soft as the wind, eyes fixed, purposed, forever reading. “Is that a mauve rose pinned behind your ear?” though monotone, it was the just the perfect blend to whip her emotions into a frenzy. At his words she instinctively reached for it, forgetting that Roy had given it to her just earlier, but before she could, Marius grabbed her hand. Justine instantly blushed but didn’t try to pull away. His silver rings were cool to the touch as was his hand as he slid her hand back down toward her side before adjusting her hair with the other hand.
“You have an air of grace about you, yet you are far less careful than you appear..” His voice trailed off a bit while still being assuring if not haunting. Every word spoken was with purpose, each sentence weighty and multilayered though also surprisingly flowery. “Your eyes wander when you speak, that element of shyness within you wouldn’t be much of a boon when mixed in a field which requires only the most bold and daring.. Interesting.” He removed the rose from her hair and looked upon it with a portentous gaze, it was weird because though he stood in front of her, she could tell that somehow he was miles away. Justine was taken aback by the way he spoke, it was like something out of a Dickens novel or Keats, a man displaced in time from the old country, his accent hard to place but very much foreign. “You see..” He started again, almost silently acknowledging the many questions swirling in her mind while still lost in his own affairs, “Like this rose cut from life to sit betwixt your ear, the colour is striking in its softness no?” His words hit her one after the other, Betwixt? Softness? He must be an alien brushed up only as far as the Victorian Era before being cast down to us. “You would believe that such a union would be quite garish would you not? That the harshness of the violet would overtake the subtle pink, but here it blends perfectly.” His fingers moved across her hand as he handed the rose back to her, the feeling so smooth and childlike against the roughness of her knuckles and the firmness of her palms. He had such innocence in his touch, more inquisitive if anything and with no sexual tension though she could feel her knees buckling all the same. Before she could utter another word, the chime of nine started to play through the loudspeakers and Marius let her go and proceeded to fix her up a bit before turning to go elsewhere. “Will I see you again?” Justine couldn’t help but feeling like a love struck schoolgirl as he just walked away with only a backwards hand wave.
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When a kiss means more to you than it ever did the other person.
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The Refusal of Attraction
Nothing would seem to hurt more than for someone to deny your feelings for them, to return your euphoria with less than welcoming tones and the body language of a Zebra in full sprint from a Lion everytime they happen to gaze upon you. Some say that it's life; a token to the free will we share, a tragedy upon mankind because no one enjoys being the butt of the barrel. Two hearts beat, one with love and the other with fear, try as hard as you might to reverse what you've done but it shall always be too late. Once love escapes your clutches, what have you left to do?
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"Flutter"
My heart is like the seasons, warm in spring filled with the joy and love of a blossoming masterpiece like the affection of ones child or the touch of a well cared for family member. Hot like the Summers raging inferno soaring above the will of the earth like the beating of two hearts in unison or the long awaited kiss from that special someone.. Autumn like the pleasant misery of knowing you’re leaving and never to return, the sound of a train whistle, a damming relationship, the prolonged suffering of a loved one but yet all in Autumn is not bad.. The realization of ones own accomplishments, the satisfaction of maturity, completion and total self assurance abound… Then my heart hits Winter.. The cruel and cold killer. Winter in my heart brings callousness, separation, dismay and horrors of a true life, sight beyond sight and love in all that is loss and gone.. A remembrance of a time when you were happy… Now dashed upon the gravel and covered with the blanket of a white burial… Winter.. My enemy and my friend.. My comfort and my uneasiness..
My heart is like the flutter of seasons, changing like the beats of a butterfly.. Never still, never clear.. A floating thought, a fleeting mind, a joyous occasion to pass the time.. A useless debate, these seasons are mine. Interlocked in my webs and vines..
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To hide in a hole.
What would it be like to hide in a hole? Where marshes are wet and the ground ever cold? What would it be like to live in a tunnel, no light, no life, being fed through a funnel? What would it be like to dig your own den? The more effort you put the wider it becomes therein? What if life was a series of holes? With stories unopened and lives untold? Why wonder about things like these? Like how the air moves and how comforting shade is under a tree? Are these questions meant for me? I say to thee, sit no more under the tree, get up! Get up! Get up and be free!
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Empire pt 3.
The room hushed with a great speed and the knights bearing crested shields and swords placed both objects in front of them the shield face up so the face of the Tiger was glimmering in the soft light and the scabbards to their short swords fitted neatly within the open tigers jaw. The King saw that all was in order and commanded the knights to rise and give a report of the happenings thus far..
"Lodrim, that snake took from us our beloved prince and felled a mighty human citadel with his winds of darkness. I entrusted a mission to you and I am quite anxious to hear the status of that endeavor."
A blonde haired knight donned in silver plate mail stood and bowed not bring his head to meet his king's eyes.
"We felled the Orcs of Loxlin woods as you would have it. The Ogres and Trolls we raided by nigh fall and none were severely injured. We smeared elven blood along the wood lines and caved sigils into the forest as to attract confusion. With our mages behind us we were able to safely assume the roll of elves and conceal our human appearance."
The king smiled and tilted his crown just enough to scratch his head. He nodded and waved the knights away.
"Woodland creatures should never be allowed to form a treaty. Disgusting cretins they are non-humans. One day I'll realize my goal of complete annihilation of these fey and giant monsters.."
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Embracing the will of my heart
Day 3: All is well thus far, being a trickle or so past 7 a.m. with little sleep I am surprisingly alert and quite restless. My heart beats a familiar tune and my mind wanders on events, self praise and others of that sort. My past, not as bad as I once feared but still an open wound is suddenly closing shut.. My world at the brink of endless chaos now stilled, each new letter an open invintation to harmony or dispair quicker than a coin toss.
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Conversation
Tybalt the Deathless
Name: Tybalt Ulrics
Age: 19 years of age.
Status: Knight under General King Romwell of Oxley.
Height: 72in
Weight: 180
Appearance: Dark brown matted hair covering his left eye exposing a
deep amber colored eye ever piercing. His hair pulled into a ponytail
and hanging past his shoulders while donning no armor his skin an
olive tan and his chin square.
Personality: Cold.
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Empire pt. 2
Once inside the emperors throne room, the doors closed locked and further barred and the windows lined with archers the Empires finest: The Tiger brigade stoodfast and waiting more than one thousand strong within the massive chamber. The five knights began to approach the throne of gold, as the infantry shifted to give them room the candlelight started to flicker and sway violently. Kneeling before an elderly man in violet flowing robes they hung their heads and awaited the call for silence...
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Empire
Moonlight bathed the countryside in a soft glimmer as five heavily armored knights made their way across the deep plains towards the castle keep their armor shone red like blood and the faces all fell grim. As Merigald came into view they slowed the horses as if not to disturb even the smallest creature. Waving the bridge guard away they quickly stole their way to the palace walls abandoning their horses to stable boys as they cautiously stalked the inner chambers of the main building...
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The path to happiness is finding solitude within your own soul. Presevere and maintain your vigilance and all shall be opened to you.
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