Title:
"Spinning Dickens"
Author: Grace
Rating: R
Improv: #15,
sleep~map~satin~ember
Disclaimer: Gilmore
Girls was created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and is the property of Dororthy
Parker Drank Here Productions, Hofflund-Polone, and the WB. The characters are
used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit
is being made from their use.
A/N: I'm not sure
what compelled me to write them, although the Improv words did lend themselves
to sex. Still, I'd like to think it's more of a character study than just a
smut piece. Oh, and the title is a reference to the fact that Tiny Tim is a
character in Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol...and this fic might
spin him in his grave. :)
Spoilers: None.
Louise Grant rolled
over, pulling the sheet slightly higher over her bare breasts. The satin was
cool and slick against her skin, a welcome respite from the frenzied, sweaty
heat of sex.
It hadn't even been
good sex. She glanced briefly at her bed partner. Tim? Todd? Tom? Something
with a "T". A whisper of a giggle escaped her--maybe his name was
Tiny. It would certainly fit, she thought wryly.
It
had been just another night at just another party--although this one happened
to be at her house. No parents, no servants, and no lock on the liquor cabinet.
She had been buzzed before the first guests began arriving, and completely
drunk an hour into the festivities. She had hazy memories of a table dance down
in the billiards room, getting groped by a basketball player in the front hall,
and going skinny-dipping in the hot tub with three
awestruck members of
the chess club.
When the first buzz
wore off, and colors became too vivid and lights too bright, she started in on
the Jell-O shots. A veritable rainbow of fruit flavors, they seemed to beckon
to her. Cherry, orange, lemon, lime, grape, with liquid centers that sent
bursts of tequila, vodka, and rum screaming down her throat and burning in her
stomach.
Tiny Tim--she
snickered softly again--had come up to her with a sexy smirk, a pair of
sparkling blue eyes, and a deck of playing cards. Never one to back down from a
challenge, Louise allowed herself to be goaded into a game
of one-on-one strip
poker. She lost after only one hand--there were perils to not replacing her bra
and panties beneath her slip dress following the skinny-dipping episode.
Completely nude, she
had led him, wide-eyed and grinning, out of the secluded parlor, up the back
stairs, and into her bedroom, where she lit a few candles.
She had never been
shy about her body--it gave her power, control. She had sprawled out on the
bed, propped up on her elbows, her breasts swinging pendulously against the
duvet, the faint friction hardening her nipples. She watched with amusement as
Tiny fumbled with his belt buckle, his eyes fixed on her rosy aureoles like
they were x-rated metronomes.
She had masked her
disappointment when his pants finally dropped to the floor and his boxers revealed
only a pup tent. She'd been hoping for something that could comfortably sleep
an entire regiment. He hesitated some more, so she crawled across the bed
towards him, a cat stalking her prey. He gave a strangled moan when she pulled
off his boxers with her teeth, and then he mumbled something about not having
protection.
She didn't mask her
sigh as she went over to the nightstand and retrieved a condom--from a box, she
noted wickedly, marked "small". She ripped it open and rolled it on
with practiced ease. Not a task she relished, but it was faster than drawing
the boy a map with instructions.
He made some fumbling
attempts at foreplay, until she finally had enough, flipping him onto his back
and lowering herself onto him. He had come almost immediately after
penetration, leaving Louise distinctly unsatisfied. She had waited until he
drifted off to sleep before finishing the job herself. He had been snoring
fitfully for close to an hour now, when all she really wanted him to do was
leave. The party downstairs had died down--she figured everyone had either gone
home or was busy having sex.
Not wanting to wake
up next to Tiny and do the awkward-morning-after dance, Louise slipped from the
bed, the sheet pooling unheeded at her feet. She ambled over to the dresser,
where the candles had burned down to stubs, the
wicks little more
than embers. She licked her thumb and forefinger and pinched them out, enjoying
the tiny prick of heat and flame. At least she could still feel something.
She glanced back once
more at the mass staking its unlawful claim on her bed. Then she stepped into
her adjoining bathroom, to wash away the sins of another day.
finis