A/N: So. Hunger Games was interesting... :| To be safe and not give away spoilers to any of you guys that haven't seen the film yet, I thought if was 'okay'. I'm not saying I disliked it, but simply I didn't feel the same magnetic pull to the movie as I did when I first read the book. But from a thriller flick's perspective, I thoroughly enjoyed it. If that makes any sense? I'm still pretty psyched for the franchise though and will definitely watch the next installment. If you'd like, you can always PM me if you wanna chat more about it.
Anyway, I've had a lot of coffee today, and since I'm a tiny bit wired at the moment, I thought I'd spend some time on this story and post a new chap. ;) Enjoy!
- Rose -
The next morning came all too soon when I unintentionally roused myself wake...
I had carelessly rolled onto my belly, crushing my bad arm in the process, during the middle of this sexy dream I ended up having. It was a really great dream, where I found myself stranded on a deserted island, senselessly shagging a very sweaty, very tall and extremely horny hot Russian on the beach.
Giggling happily at the time, my squirming hips had cuddled up against the mountain of fluffy white double goose-down pillows I have strategically places on one side of my bed. I was just about to moan in contentment, with my puckered mouth gleefully nibbling on a silky soft pillowcase as he neared his climax, when I immediately woke with a start as the pain of that extra weight on my sensitive flesh stung my nerve endings to crisps...
Groggily fluttering my eyes open, I accidentally slipped off the bed and onto the cold hard floor landing directly on my arm in the process as my mouth spluttered open, mewling out a whimper from the sudden pain.
I bit down on my bottom lip and swallowed back a few stray tears as I clutched my arm in agony while balling myself up into the fetal position.
After a moment of furious rocking, the pain dulled back long enough for me to relax and unwind my tense limbs. Groaning as I sat up, I peeled off a messy clot of tangled hair stuck to my neck before I winced as even my slightest movement throbbed with soreness.
Every muscle in my body was stiff, my skull felt like it had just been stuck with two dozen pins and needles from a ruthless Acupuncturist ninja, and my hips ached from the countless hours of vigorous friction they underwent from the other night's shag fest. For the lack of better, more colorfully obscene words, I felt awful.
"Damn Russian" I sneered, knocking back a few Aspirins that were spilled on top of my nightstand while one of my hands blindly felt around the floor for something to wash the pills down with. Once I found a near-empty Vodka bottle, I gulped down a generous swig before coddling it against my forehead in relief. The cool glass felt nice on my skin and made me feel more calm until I squinted my eyes over at my alarm clock and scowled at the time, 6:14 AM.
On any other day, this would be considered fairly early for me, but seeing as I have work today, it means I'm actually running late. "Fuck" I groaned, forcing myself onto my feet as I rushed over to the bathroom realizing thanks to my latest stroke of idiocy, I currently don't a have ride. Which means I have just about fifteen minutes to haul my ass over to the Metro or I'll have to find other way to get to work.
I didn't waste much time getting myself ready. I peed, splashed my face with some cold water from the tap, tamed back my wild hair with a brush and a few droplets of de-frizzing Serum, gave my teeth a quick polish before smearing a light coat of makeup on and then slithered my way over to my massive closet space.
And by closet space, I mean the Cedar trunk filled with lingerie posing as my second makeshift nightstand, the four racks of designer clothes I have lined up behind my bed, and the Mammoth-sized metal shoe caddy I have leaning up against the brick wall.
Strutting over to my trunk first in nothing but my birthday suit, I flick the heavy latch back and pluck out a mauve push-up bra trimmed in black lace with a matching cheeky thong.
Next, I skid over to the closest rack and slip on a pair of fishnets along with a tight-fitted black leather skirt before mulling over whether to wear my recently stolen Dolce & Gabbana knit top or go for my usual navy blue long-sleeve tee with a plunging neckline.
Choosing comfort over necessity, I opt for the navy top and ruche the loose fabric down my chest so that the black lace of my bra peeks out just enough along my busty flesh in that playful 'Shag me if you can' kinda way.
With a smirk, I drape a few locks of hair over the bruised slit left on the side of my neck before I snatch my Jimmy Choo tote lying at the foot of my bed, swipe a pair of black platform pumps from the caddy and slink out of the loft in a storming whirl.
. . .
Turns out karma has a real bitchy way of biting me in the ass because after scoring myself twenty blocks worth of Metro car hopping, the train I'm currently on decides to break down.
With a lethal sneer that would spook the devil himself, I sneak out of the Metro tunnel via the city's sewer canal, thankfully not sighting any mutant reptilian as I went, and climb out of a street grate a half mile from the next Metro station.
I was about to head in the direction of it's entrance when two things simultaneously happened at once. One, my stomach gurgled up a ferociously loud grumble. And two, my eyes caught sight of a sleek, Imperial Blue BMW M6 glimmering in the bright sunlight a block in the opposite direction of the station as it's driver parallel-parked it in front of a bakery.
With the top down exposing the car's creamy pale leather seats and the heavenly sugary aroma of freshly baked breads and pastries wafting down my way, I could be drooling like a dirty old horndog rubbing one out to kinky Asian porno's in his mother's basement and I wouldn't care one lick what anyone thought of me right this second.
Mmm... maybe I did have some luck today after all. With a sly grin painted across my face, I changed directions with a wicked idea bubbling up in my mind.
. . .
Making sure I appeared to be in no hurry to rush by, I lazily sauntered down the block. Swaying my hips in a soft, slow cadence like I didn't have a care in the world. Pausing in front of a shop along the way to smooth some Cherry lipstick on my lips. All with the help of my sultry reflection winking back at me off the various shop's iridescent windows...
When I passed the convertible I noticed the driver, a middle-aged man with a vulture-like nose, awful spray tan and sickly swollen Collagen-filled lips, glancing my way as he fed the street meter.
I smiled back at him holding his attention in a smoldering gaze before I teasingly averting my eyes to watch the early morning bustle going about in the bakery.
Stopping to watch an elderly couple seat themselves down at a stool booth, I felt his fixed stare hungrily crawling up my curves as I let some of my fingertips slowly trail down the rim of my top's neckline. I could hear his ginger foot steps creeping closer to me as his breathing began to hitch when I drifted my index finger between my sweating cleavage and ruffled the lace trim sprouting along the bared contours of my chest.
He was just about to lean in towards me, no doubt to whisper some cheesy pick-up line in my ear, when I briskly sprung my body up against his as if deciding the shop no longer held my interest and of course, seemingly oblivious to his close proximity.
I crashed into his chest, wobbling him off balance a bit as I delicately slipped a hand into his pant pocket and plucked out his car keys.
"Oomph- I'm so sorry!" I sweetly mew, dropping the keys into my tote while pretending to lean on his shoulder for support as he steadies us.
"Oh no, the pleasure's all mine." he chuckled after not-so-subtly placing a hand on my hip and guides me closer to him.
Giggling as I playfully wiggle out of his grasp, I look over his narrow shoulder and purr, "Nice Bimmer. Yours?"
Grinning at the convertible, he cockily slicks his overly gelled hair back and nonchalantly muses, "Hm that o' M6 over there? Well, I suppose is a nice change from my usual Rolls. Which in my experience, has a lot more convenient leg room in the back..." He trails off to give me what I can only assume is a flirtatious wink, which in reality looks as if his eye is have it's own mini seizure as it struggles to close shut from all the Botox he's had cramped into his frozen lids.
God... what a vile prick! In response, I give him a sassy smile before turning my backside to him and sashay the hell away before his horrible fake swag inspires me to give him his keys back.
. . .
The moment I step foot inside the bakery, I'm suddenly enveloped in a warm cocoon of sweet n' buttery smelling doughs along with the intoxicating rich aromas of tart fruits, various cinnamon spices, heavily whipped creams and freshly ground coffees. My mouth immediately begins to water from the tantalizing scents.
I automatically lick my lips and stealthy swipe a place in line. As I wait to place my order, I notice Mr. BMW waltzing into the shop with a defeated look on his plastic face before he perks up when an equally repulsive woman comes bounding up to him. She snags ahold of his shirt collar and plants a wet kiss on his fish lips before her spidery three-inch red-tipped nails curl around his forearm and jerk him over to the opposite side of the shop. I resist the urge to shudder as a sickly image of their scary offspring flits across my mind. Ugh. That's going to be one twisted-looking gene pool.
Adverting my attention back to the menu board to decide on which delectables to devour first, my eyes stop their roaming when something else catches my interest.
A tall man, two people in front of me, turns to his side profile to examine a tart display and suddenly my breath catches. He has lustrous pale blonde locks, light olive skin and the most striking steely blue eyes I've ever seen.
I drift my gaze down his towering height and note the he's impeccably dressed in a powdery-grey Versace suit, gleaming dark leather John Lobb oxfords and a polished Parmigiani Fleurier watch. My heart almost skips a beat at the thought of what kind of car he must drive...
And as if sensing my blatant ogling of his mouthwatering pedigree, he leans back from the display and takes notice of my stare.
I feel a heat rise up in my cheeks as he flaunts me a charming grin before waltzing my way.
Oh fuck. I press my lips firmly together and shift my hips to keep myself from giggling with joy as a hundred different ways to con this man begin swirling about in my mind. My eyes flick down to the jewelry on his wrist again and my mouth begins to pool. Mmm... that watch is so comin' home with Mama!
"Hello there..." a smooth, deep voice floats across the outer shell of my right ear as I inhale a deep breath to steady myself. And instantly my nostrils twitch in pleasure. Oh, he smells nice! Is that Clive Christian's- Fuck, fuck, fuck. Focus Hathaway!
"Hi." I mew, blinking out of my daze and lift my head up to search his eyes. And when I do, I have to mentally order myself to not leap away from him.
Although he has a decently handsome face, I notice a rather striking flaw I didn't pick up on at first.
One of his crystal blue eyes is, well, crystal. One lone iris is a slight shade off from the other and seems to be frozen in time as it blankly stares ahead. Unmoving, unreal, and utterly unalive. It's creepy as hell.
Resisting the urge to shudder, I cast him my most alluring smile and sway my hips an inch closer to his, hoping I'll get a good vibe.
In response, he grins wider and gestures to the people in front of us, "I'm sorry if this seems intrusive, but I couldn't help but notice such a beautiful woman like yourself looks a bit lonely over here. So I thought I'd keep you company."
Perfect. I can work with this. Relieved, I fey an innocent laugh and adjust the tote on my shoulder before looking up at him and purr, "Funny. I could say the same for you."
He quirks a playful brow, "Oh?"
I nip my bottom lip to restrain myself from swatting a hand across his glass eye to see if it'll move. "Erm, well I mean you're handsome and clearly not a woman. But I suppose you're beautiful too." I ramble, while searching for a better angle hook him with.
After a brief pause, I decide coy and innocent is my best bet. So for an added measure, I peel away from his distracting gaze to brush a lock of hair behind my ear before sheepishly looking up again. And lo and behold, he's giving me one of those 'You're cute and easy' looks. Ha! I should win an Emmy or something for this spectacular performance...
He chuckles softly before sniggering, "Well thank you. I'd like to think of myself as beautiful in a way."
Hook, line, and sinker. I smile holding out my hand, "I'm Rose."
He smiles back at me and takes my hand whilst murmuring "Oh, that's such a lovely name." he reaches down to kiss my knuckles, "You can call me- "
"NEXT!" He's suddenly cut off by a frizzy-haired, freckle-faced irate barista. Which after a quick scan of the shop, looks like she's been trying to get our attention seeing as we're next in line.
"My apologizes Miss" he drawls in a suave voice before casting her a flirtatious wink. Immediately her cheeks turn beet red as she stutters, "N-no. Th-that's okay Sir. What can I get you today?" I didn't miss the lingering stare she gave him after he grinned at the last bit. Poor girl, she looks like she's about to faint.
He turns briefly to me and makes a sweeping gesture in front of him, "Ladies first."
A knowing smirk teases my cherry lips. Oh, it's time for some fun. Instead of taking up his offer, I stay rooted in place and run the tip of my tongue along the base of my top lip before purring, "I haven't decided on what I want yet. You go ahead..."
A flash of lust flickers across his good eye before he grins at me, "Suit yourself."
In one smooth stride, he reaches the barista counter and places his order, "I'll have a Venti Skinny Dirty Chai with a Spinach Feta Wrap and..."
I tune out the rest of his order and slowly make my way beside him where our hips are nearly touching. I gaze up at the menu board and with feather-light precision, run the pad of my middle finger along his watch's metal wristband, searching for the clasp. When I find it and am about to unhook it, I feel a warm palm run down the underside of my forearm before long fingers brush across my bare wrist.
I quickly retract my hand and crane my neck to the side to notice Mr. Debonair is staring pointedly at me. My heart gives an unhealthy lurch as I sight a hot flare of anger loom in his eye before it turns warm again.
He nods his chin towards the drooling barista as he casuals tells her, "And add whatever this lovely lady wants to my tab..." before he fishes his wallet from his pant pocket and flicks an AMEX Centurion onto the counter.
I swallow hard and ignore the warning instincts I'm suddenly getting to drop this guy. But I'm rarely the type of woman to back down from a challenge. So instead, I flaunt him my best man-eater smile and purr, "Are you sure about that? I might want a lot of things..."
The barista glares at me as he grins, shifting his body an inch closer to mine and breathlessly murmurs in my ear, "Oh I think I can handle it..."
Ooo, you so asked for it buddy! "Mmm, tempting... but I think I'll fend for myself this time." I wink, before plucking a crisp one-hundred dollar bill out of my tote and slide it across the counter. His brows raise in surprise as I turn my full attention to the barista will a sly smirk on my face.
"This is all to go..." I start off as I sense the full weight of his fixed stare crawling all over my body and then stops to watch the motions of my lips, "...I'm going to need two Trenta Half-caf two-percent Mocha Frappés, a Venti Whole Hazelnut Caramel Macchiato with Double the foam, a Grande Cinnamon Black Eye Extra hot..."
I pant out the last bit as I feel him place a hand on my hip as Freckle-face scrambles to scribble my order onto the cups. With a flick of my hair and tip of my chin, I hastily finish "And... I'll have three Raspberry Cheese Danishes, a Turkey Bacon Swiss Panini, two Double-chocolate chip glazed donuts and a side order of Cottage fries." I smirk as the girl busily clamors out my order whilst One-eyed Jack glides his hand a little too close to the zip of my tote that's dangling freely from my opposite curled forearm.
So I abruptly turn my hip to the side and trap his hand against the edge of the countertop and flash him a cheeky grin.
A soft groan rumbles in his chest as I grind one of his tendons against the bevelled wood.
"That's an awful lot of food for just one woman." he growls through a strained smile.
I shift my weight and crush down on one of his knuckles next as I tease, "What can I say? I've got a big appetite..."
"Is that all Ma'am ?" The frazzled barista interrupts us again with scorn dripping off her tongue.
I release the guy's hand, never breaking contact with his dysfunctional gaze, as I pompously quip, "Yeah. And keep the change, Hon."
I have the brief satisfaction of watching her left eye twitch in my peripheral before she forces a smile for me, hands us our receipt tickets and calls for the next in line.
. . .
A minute later, and I've got that Versace Hottie nibbling hungrily down the crook of my neck as our hands battle to slip the other. Every time I'm close to swiping his wallet or watch, he's got a hand sliding up my thigh while the other works on reaching my tote. It's frustrating, sexy, and thrilling all at once. I don't know who this man is, but I plan on keeping him interested. There's something about him that just screams 'danger' but in a good expensive way. And if my instincts are right, this could turn out to be a very entertaining con for me...
Eventually we call a truce as he pulls away when his order's ready. He takes a sip from his espresso before whipping out his cell to check the time. He frowns, pockets it and brushes a hand across my hip before slipping a white business card into my palm.
"Give me a call sometime and let me buy you a proper breakfast." he murmurs into my ear before pecking my cheek. And before I can respond, he's disappeared out of sight in a flourish.
A lazy grin graces by lips as I flip the card over and note it's completely blank except for a ten-digit phone number embossed on the clean parchment in a reflective metallic ink. Strange...
"ORDER 1369!" I bob my head up at the sound of my take-out number as it crackles through the shop's intercom. I clear my throat and hastily stash the card in my tote as my mind focuses on leaving...
Once I've skillfully balanced the two coffee carriers and heavy bakery bag all on one arm, I rummage the other around in my tote for the Bimmer's keys. Once I've plucked them out, I do a brief scan of the shop and find Fish Lips is still savagely snogging his girlfriend in a booth near the back. I roll my eyes in exasperation, before quickly slipping out of the bakery and head straight for his convertible.
As I'm firing it's engine to life, I have the sudden cold feeling like someone's been watching me. My heart rate accelerates with adrenaline as I shift the Bimmer into drive and risk a glance in the direction of the shop. A sharp prickling sensation pours down my spine as my eyes lock onto a pale-skinned man with messy Raven-black hair and Icy-blue eyes as he glowers at me from the corner of the bakery whilst holding an open newspaper.
With a quick check in the rear-view mirror, I snap out of his haunting gaze and swiftly hightail it out of there before he decides to start any trouble.
. . .
I often wonder why I attract the world's most shady men into my life. But then again, considering my line of work, that's not such a bizarre thing for me to be thinking about right now.
As I zoom down crowded streets towards the heart of the city, I glance at my mirrors and suppress the need to groan. Ever since I caught sight of that dark-haired creep, I've had a black SUV tailing me.
It's too early to tell if they're a Fed or some other ballsy fucker, but I will say that judging from the tinted windows, exceptional driving skills, and bulky silhouette of the driver, it's someone I don't want to know.
I've already tried losing them twice, only to find them looming back behind me a minute later. I glance at the Bimmer's dash and scowl at the clock, 7:05 AM. They've made me late for work!
With a permanent frown etched on my face, I begin braking at a yellow traffic light when my anger decides to get the best of me.
Right as the light switches to red, I slam down on the throttle and jerk the steering wheel to the left. As the tires skid, burning rubbery streaks into the black Tarmac, the convertible swerves into an illegal U-turn and thrust's itself against one-way traffic.
I easily dodge screeching cars and honking trucks as the SUV copies my move and charges after me a block away.
"Fuck" I sneer, zipping past a flailing sedan and idling Minivan. I hear the sharp BANG! echo off my eardrums as the two crush together behind me.
My fingers curl tightly around the wheel as my body floods will adrenaline. I sense the SUV closing in on me as my eyes hook onto a sign up ahead that indicates an entrance to the freeway.
Thanks to the lithe movement of my wrist and the pleasing purr resonating from the Bimmer's engine, we take the ramp.
My head begins to pulse with pressure as I weave past car after car in broad daylight at raging speeds. And still, the SUV is hot on my trail.
He's five cars behind me, changing to the center lane to pass a semi when an idea pops up in my mind.
I lick my lips and abruptly dive into the HOV, barely clipping a charter bus in the process and bear down on the throttle.
The scenery around me begins to blur as I focus my attention on another semi coasting along in the distance.
When I'm a few cars ahead of it, I glance back to measure up the location of the SUV before I grin and yank on the steering wheel.
In slow motion, I drift the convertible across two lanes and brush it up against the cabin of a blazing red Freightliner semi.
The driver honks it's deafeningly loud horn as it's trailer wobbles when I nick the side of it with the Bimmer's rear end.
Smirking, I look back and catch the SUV sideswiping a Jersey wall as it races down the freeway shoulder in an attempt to cut me off but the convertible is faster and it's already too late.
Faster than it takes to blink, I suddenly thrust the Bimmer directly in front of the semi and tap the brakes.
The after effect to that is flawless. I slam down on the throttle, punching the convertible forward as the semi swerves, swinging it's trailer out to the side and Jackknifes into the SUV.
All hell breaks loose after that as cars dodge and collide into the commotion while I zip past it all and take the next exit.
When I'm safely cruising along the city's busy streets again, I can't contain the sinister snicker that tickles my throat as I glance down at the Bimmer's passenger floor and note not a single drop of coffee has spilt during all of this. Ha! What a morning I've had, and it's not even close to lunch time yet.
A/N: Hehehe... leave it to Rose Hathaway to defy the laws of gravity! The next chapter's when you finally get to know what her day job is. *grins evilly*
Review please!
~Fabulous