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| Dollface |
I've behaved impeccably all evening.
I knew that tonight was important to you, that you wanted to make an impression. I kept this snugly in my mind as I smiled, as I conversed and charmed, and as I reapplied my lipstick. With every spritz of perfume and winking jewel about my neck, I thought of their consequence.
I had made you proud, I could tell. You didn't say it, or give me the luxury of so obviously complimenting me, but I knew. It was in the way you placed your hand in the small of my back, or perhaps the brush of your fingers at the nape of my neck. Either way, I was pleased.
You wanted a lady earlier this evening, but I know you want something different as you get into the car with me. I can almost smell it.
You start the engine, and as I switch the CD player on you swat my hand away irritatedly, like a frustrated parent with a curious child. Hmm. I wonder if that pride is still there.
The gravel crunches below the tyres as we pull away, and I click my seatbelt into place. The strap nestles between my breasts, but before I can get comfortable your finger has pushed the button and the buckle is sailing up over my shoulder. I flash my eyes at you, surprised.
"Feet up on the dashboard. Now".
It's hard to do this gracefully. I shift down in the seat, dress riding up my thighs and exposing my stockings. I try not to scrape my heels along the dashboard. My hands grip the side of the seat and I await instruction. I know exactly what you want, but I'm too shy to do it without you asking me. No, demanding it of me.
You reach across and rope my underwear through your fingers, yanking my knickers down my thighs. They stretch across my knees and I'm suddenly very aware of the headlights from others vehicles briefly filling our car. It reflects on the ring on your finger, your watch, the gloss on my mouth.
Your gaze is fixed on the road as you reach into the hot hollow of my groin and start manipulating me. Pressing, rubbing and stroking until I'm slumped further down, dress around my hips.
Even behind my closed eyes, I can see the glimmer of headlights as cars drive past, brake lights ahead of us glowing like fireflies. I feel my muscles tense when the car slows down because I know there's traffic lights, or a pavement, or just because you want to. Because you want people to look into the car and see the perfumed, smudged atrocity beside you.
The car comes to a stop, but the engine still hums.
“Turn your head to the window and open your eyes”.
I know what will be there. Someone shocked, someone disgusted.
The man in the car next to me stares straight back, unflinching. He can see the arch of my heels, how far apart my knees are, your jacketed arm between my thighs.
“Don't look away. Keep looking”.
I swallow and don't break my gaze. If he looks hard enough, he'll see my necklace glinting as I try and catch my breath, or the sheen of sweat that's just starting to form in the dip of my collarbone.
I wonder what he thinks. Does he think I'm pretty, or attractive? Is he jealous of you? Is he revolted? Will he go home and fuck his wife and think about this, about me?
My leg slips and my heel slides across the dashboard. You're wiping your fingers on the lace top of my stocking, shoving my leg angrily away with your palm.
"Clumsy little bitch".
The car next to us is gone.
You wrench the car into gear and move off fast. Too fast, and I sit up and beg you to slow down. You ignore me.
I reach across my shoulder and grope for the seatbelt. I fumble aimlessly, trying desperately to pull it across my body.
You punch my shoulder once, twice, and the pain throbs dully down my arm.
“Don't even think about it”.
I beg you again, it's too fast, the view ahead is just a haze of road and lights and darkness. Night black and the boiled-sweet colours of traffic lights, the sickly orange of streetlights, all muddied and blurred by my own sickening fear. Oh God, please stop. I suddenly, soberingly, become very aware of the metal and glass encasing us. The rough scrape of the mat below my stockinged foot. I hadn't even noticed that my shoe had come off. The familiar smell of leather and the roar of the engine as you abuse it.
“Please…”
You answer by wrenching the wheel to the left, and my head cracks against the window. It's white and hot behind my eyes, and I don't realise that I'm bleeding until I taste that coppery tang as it trickles thinly into my mouth.
I turn to look at you, face framed by parenthesis blonde curls and a single exclamation mark of blood.
You slow down, more and more, then you stop. You raise your hand, and I flinch as I expect the blow.
Instead, you border on tender as your palm cups my face, your thumb dipping into my blood and smearing it across my cheek.
“Now get out”.
Edited Fri 30 Oct 09, 5:46 PM by Dollface
| 29 Oct 09, 8:59 PM LittleEl UK, 9 yrs |
Utterly delicious writing, as ever. xxx You're a terrific person. You're my favourite person. But every once in a while, you can be a real cunt. |
| 29 Oct 09, 9:13 PM Will_and_Echo UK(SW), 5 yrs    |
<3 Exx "What you blush to tell", says Venus, "is the most important part of the whole matter" |
| 29 Oct 09, 9:34 PM poutanaki UK(M), 10 yrs |
Oh my *shiver*  Your so pretty when your on your knees. Disinfected, eager to please |
| 29 Oct 09, 9:59 PM Scorchio 7 yrs |
Tis good that. |
| 29 Oct 09, 11:28 PM mini_velvet UK(EH), 6 yrs |
phwoar! concupiscent cunt |
| 30 Oct 09, 12:20 AM x_TigerLily_x UK, 3 yrs |
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm x "A kiss with a fist is better than none." |
| 30 Oct 09, 10:15 AM mia  UK(M), 4 yrs       |
Oooh, I was REALLY scared. Hot! x You don't always have to be on top. Better to be hated than love, love, loved for what you're not |
| 2 Nov 09, 11:44 PM Goldilocks UK(SE), 5 yrs |
You never fail to write something truly delicious. Thanks for sharing this wonderful piece of prose. xX Goldie Xx |
| 3 Nov 09, 8:30 PM Dollface UK, 6 yrs |
Cheers folks  "When you're going through hell, keep going." |
