CHAPTER ELEVEN
Pouncing on hungry ideas Mathew brought Susan to a café. They ate, they shared foody words and talked about all kinds of pointless shit. It was all very pleasant stuff. None of them noticed the cafe much. There wasn’t much to notice when the bulk of the interest lay between the heated bread slices on the table. Susan felt her thighs heat up with that kind of nightly stank that comes in a horny package.
With everything said and done the evening electrified itself the further they went on. The lights form the cafe came on alongside the fluorescent smiles. The sweat from their cheeky cheeks acted as the natural fog that accompanied the atmosphere of the night.
Funny drinks became the new goal for the night, tickling the convulsing underbelly of Mr Black. They needed alcohol. Having had a few drinks already they proceeded on their lubed quest to finalise the night. She was looking forward to the twisting of the limbs. Then again who wouldn’t be? Mathew marched the two from destination to place collecting their ammo for later on. She rested herself in the palm of his guiding hand while her boots danced to the swish of the alcohol in her bottle.
Mr Black had stretched his skin across the lay of the land acting as the blanket for every shaded soul to rest themselves beneath, colours had somehow invaded the regions of Susan’s view. Particularly purple, with fingered reach acting as the boundary for every colour to smash into. She jumped into pained puddles on the street cracking their hard earned homes from them, but her blunt and blind desires stopped her from seeing too far from Mathews grasp.
Gliding across the city they had gathered enough supplies to fuel the fire for the night. Thankfully enough it was one of those self-sufficient fires so they didn’t need much to get everything going.
They reached the agency before either of them had decided where to culminate their evening. Not a single suggestion had flirted its way into the conversation of the night, so somehow they just ended up back at the modelling agency. They were too far from anyone and anything to be remotely bothered to go somewhere else.
Staring the empty agency in the face Mathew walked his tipsy legs through the doors and paused in the middle of the entrance. The place was as silent as wood, or any other inanimate object really. His shoulders hunched to a stance as he scanned the place gleaming over every wiped tile surface “Why... why is this place so clean?”
“Then why are we here? Why not your place?” Susan said with a beer in her hand pointing somewhere. His shoulders swayed from side to side banging against his skull trying to find the why to her question.
“I guess... routine brought me here.”
“Well next time your place. I want to see all those pretentious paintings that I bet you just throw around your place.” She said with the bottle loosening its grip within her hand. Having said what she wanted she marched in front of him with exaggerated movements trying to guide him to somewhere warm and wet. She didn’t know where to go however so she turned on her heel with unknown speed. Her head danced within the spongy grasp of her skull banging with dizzying force. Before she knew it she was on the floor laughing with half eaten alcohol dripping from the side of her mouth.
He looked at her for a moment before he helped her up. He could smell her daily routine through her clothes. He forgot how someone else’s sweat smelt. Susan’s wasn’t sour or painfully noticeable, it was sweet and reminded his nostrils of youth. Once her laughter calmed down from the almighty mountain that she had placed it on he snapped himself out of his trance and helped her up from the floor.
Holding her with one hand and holding his bottle with the other he placed his dished gaze in front of hers. Neither of them had anything to say, enough of the communication transpired through the heated sweat that dripped from both of them.
There was no light in the room apart from the faint glow from behind Steff’s name and the flood of nightlife from the other world outside. It lit up Mathews few short hair that came down over his ear, like static strands of electricity. The light blue that crawled over Mathews shoulder comforted her. The dusty colour floated across the air, pulsating as if it had a source. Maroon red flashed wildly in the corner which helped light up his face. It was like an imaginary subtle rave that held itself tightly in Susan’s drunk perspective. Being used to it was something that she had to embrace.
Before they kissed she guided her eyes across the bridge of his nose. It was bent slightly to the left, almost unnoticeable. His brown eyes said nothing of interest apart from the fact that they looked like wood. Susan never found his eyes attractive, it was always his strong jaw and as she ran her hand over it she felt micro earthquakes of movement in it. She hadn’t noticed it before but his jaw was unruly dancing itself into a murmur, it couldn’t rest and eat still without restless jerks. He hid it well, only noticeable from the position that she found herself in.
The kiss locked. He tasted her soft lips garnished by a beautiful dish of vanilla dressed and lathered in spoon-fulls of oestrogen. His testosterone spit at least tasted better than his wet chicken salad. He was warm and that’s all her sailor arms cared about. With the rest of the night in one hand and fun grabbed by the other, she felt as if she was lying in bed suffocated by the joys of what she was getting herself into. Yet she was standing openly in the entrance of the agency. Well standing is a bit of a stretch. Most of her support came from Mathew’s refusal to let go of her.
He ran his hands across her top, pacing himself around her waist ending in a firm grasp of her lower back. With the next drink knocking on their lips they broke off for a moment cleaning their jowls from any naughty saliva that tried to escape the ring.
“My office is upstairs.”
“Bed?” she asked without a pause for thought.
“Um... no but there is a couch... its nice trust me.... really soft. Fine leather. I can’t remember where I got it but I think… I… uh still have the receipt upstairs, if ya wanna check.”
“I think I’m good thanks” she said with a healthy bowl full of laughter. Letting go of her he headed to the left up another set of elaborately broken stairs. She followed teasing herself to not let her fingers fall into the finely cut cracks of the steps.
Trying to keep his excitement under a professional wrap, he half galloped up the stairs and through the hall. It was dark and threw its skin as if it were a carbon copy of the hall she was in yesterday. This confused her, flinging her biological GPS from the roof. With a rather hard flick of a nearby switch, the lights came on horrifyingly fractured. Susan closed in on him, protecting herself behind his back. It wasn’t fear, nope not fear, she was cold in the agency. It was a frozen place made from white and icy tiles straight from her nightmares.
He noticed a slight rise in heat behind so he turned his head to see the top of hers hovering right behind him. He smiled quietly to himself warming up his chest for what he looked forward to in the night.
He tripped over his excitement and rested his shoulder on the frame of his office door. With a loose hand he arched it around the wall and tickled the switch for lights.
Susan’s non-existent fears faded away. As she straightened herself she looked around the room with curiosity. She felt the need to run and poke every hole of info with the tips of her fingers as if they were all individual fleshy bar code scanners. She knew it would be rude so she entered his office with a head straight from an owl’s neck. The room was large enough to instil that “done well for himself” impression, but he didn’t drip it with wealth or pretentious panda paintings that are thrown around everywhere these days. His desk was covered with nooks and gadgets collected by the human condition to hold on to sentimental things. Every photo and tiny statue had its own dusty mark on the table. Move them and move the memory or feeling they came with. As she gawped at everything Mathew entertained himself in the corner of the room tickling the possibilities of his drink and the bottle that sold horny ideas to him.
He looked at his camera that lay calmly in the corner of the room on a neat table stand. Susan
felt maroon pound against her spine. Somehow it motivated her to dance. It felt good like an understated morning stretch. The usual warm blue and cautious red found themselves bored with their own company. So they called in on oblivious yellow to seep into the wood of his desk. It couldn’t contain itself jumping form one piece of furniture to the next, until it landed into the grasp of the couch. It was proud of its decision. The soft almost fluffy texture dug into the pores of Susan’s skin as she twisted her body with the newly found pleasure of the couch.
Mathew looked at her for that moment as he sipped on his drink. The look of her dark hair as it lay across the pumped cushions tangled its way up his nostrils. Her hair didn’t smell just to clarify, it pleased him so much is that the idea of what Susan was crawled its way up his nose. Why his nose? Well his eyes were already occupied with her meaty thighs as they shifted within the confines of the couch and his ears were full of the soft hums that soothed its way from Susan’s joy. Before he knew it he had his camera in hand.
Just wanted to capture her perfect pose. He didn’t trust his own swallowed mind to remember. Susan looked up to see the camera lens peering down her jeans towards her face. All she saw was maroon merge against blue over Mathew’s shoulders as he took a few photos. Her drink created a wall making it almost impossible for her to realize what was going on. Her framed mind filled itself with Mathew’s taught arms as he caressed every button of the camera. Her thighs punched themselves to exhaustion. So to distract herself she played along curving around on the couch like a cat, posing for Mathew.
She dug her back into the side of the couch raising her lower spine towards the altered sky. Her vision blurred with every side sip she sank. Hands prayed upwards as she listened to the creek of the leather cushions conspire with the click from the camera behind her. The sound was quiet at first, only a click, then it grew with a metallic punch. Eventually the sound from the camera became a pain, so to relax herself she looked back at Mathew who was leaning on the arm of the couch with his elbows. He saw the sour look in her face. He lowered his camera to appease her and left it down on the ground. All alone, the poor, poor camera.
As he reached for another drink Susan quelled in the silence that she took for granted. She felt streams of baby blue dripping from the inside of her eyelids, yet when she touched the bottom of her eye, it was dry. It wasn’t tears she was feeling run down her skin but rather pure blue comfort that tickled her eyelashes like drops of water.
The light of the room calmed itself with the gradual growth of the night. Mathew shuffled his way around the room spilling his drink into the green carpet. Susan sat up straight taking in all the colourful laughter that bounced between the two. She rolled her eyes over each stretched muscle that he flaunted in front of her. His shirt was half open teasing a few inches of skin. Susan ran her hand down through her thighs until her fingertips reached her knees. Purple exuded through the tips of her purple painted nails between her knees. She rolled the softly warm colour in and out of her fingers resting it in her palms. Restless now, hungry to swallow the purple and cover her skin with its name. She couldn’t bear anymore of this teasing and fingerless fingering. Standing up she reached for Mathews drink and grabbed his wrist freezing the liquid for the night. She quickly placed the glass on his desk and ran her hand up his chest until she reached his chin.
Mathew was used to grabbing the curves that shouted sex and this time he found himself in an entirely different room than usual. He craved her wide hips, her perfect thighs that curved elegantly down to her calves. This time however all he saw was the dirt that painted across Susan’s routine skin. She was clean, but she wasn’t tidy. He noticed a couple of holes that tore their way into the fabric of her clothes.
One in particular taunted Mathew, hidden underneath Susan’s arm. Oval in shape it dragged his fingered grasp into the confines of the hole as they kissed. With one hand roaming and stomping its way down to Susan’s ass the other held itself respectfully in the hole. He felt the ruffles of thread that hung from the edges of her cardigan. The feedback from running his fingers around the edges of the clothed hole was more satisfying for him than the twisting tongue fight up above.
Now the unwrapping of the meat. They fondled around trying to pull one piece from each other. His shirt died first crying asleep beneath the lip of the desk, then her cardigan which he pulled from her holding onto the hole. Once removed he paused. Mathew felt more attached to that neglected cloth hole than the various holes that lay before him.
Susan watched him as he hesitated to throw the cardigan away. With time losing its purple paint job she unbuckled her jeans to keep the momentum going. Once he snapped out of his toasted state he joined her in the unwrapping race of skin.
He left the torn cardigan on his desk as if leaving it for later. Flashing red heated up in the corner to the tempo that Susan demanded. Purple veins pulsated between her thighs shocking a frozen face up to her. Wrapping her hands around his back she dug her fingers into grooves. Resting his rough lips on her chest he teased the skin taunting her to curl. Blue shoved its way onto the room, with red having an uncontrollable orgasm on the ceiling. The colours illuminated the room bouncing hollow thoughts around smashing against every surface in an attempt to find solid ground to stand on. To no avail, Susan’s legs were as unstable as a vibrating two legged chair.
Mr Black accompanied the sweaty red and baby blue as they made the office their own. Grey was nowhere to be seen. She was left to enjoy the outside dance of nightlife, while Mr Black occupied himself with the twisting limbs on the couch.
And so the night proceeded, with a soft fight between Susan’s colours and the nature that sweated itself to the beat of their African panting. While Susan’s picture was coloured by relentless dark purple punches, Mathew was taunted by the various fabric torn slits in her pants. It was all he saw, it was all he felt, smelt, tasted, and it made her real to him, new wood, unlike new plastic. It was amazing as if his skin was pulled from his face. It’s the contrasting highs from the lows that always leaves the deepest scars and his dug straight into his nursed skull banging on memories of unsaturated childhood.
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