Bloodred Senseless - Chapter 5: King of hearts
Sydney leaned on the cue heavily, ignoring the fact that it might not hold her weight. She glanced at the bar and back to Michael, sending him a message. He raised a finger for the bartender to see. A few seconds later, a dry martini sat on the edge of the pool table before Sydney. She lifted it to her lips and downed it, save a tiny bit. Michael sidled up to her and asked, "Good?"
"See for yourself," she replied. She put the last of the drink in her mouth and kissed him harshly. He licked his lips and motioned to the bartender once more. In front of them appeared a grasshopper. This time, Sydney took the glass from the man and smiled at Michael. "More?"
"Do I ever." He placed a hand on her neck and bit her earlobe. A tremble flew through her before she moved so Michael was between the table and her. She took a sip and blindly put the glass on the table far away from them, accidentally smashing it. The green liquid tinted the already green felt, but neither Sydney nor Michael were watching it. She pushed Michael so he lay on the table and climbed on top of him, attacking.
-
The top came off faster than she had been able to put it on. There was no doubt—adrenaline had a rival. The leather pants were a completely different story. Even in her drunken state, she was adamant that they not be ripped off in the heat of the moment. It seemed they were stuck to her legs or to her huge muscles, but Michael had no trouble breathlessly pointing out the possibility that they were stuck to her hips. This, of course, was not what one said to someone they were about to make love to, but Sydney was unaware of the comment. The struggle to become undressed was not helped by the fact that they were in the dark. Or that the closet they occupied felt no bigger than an airplane bathroom.
Finally without clothing, Sydney and Michael ricocheted across the tiny room, taking in one another fully with their hands and mouths. Their sounds were definitely not masked by the flimsy door that Sydney found herself pressed against more than once. The primal feeling that came over both of them raged on inside for what felt like hours.
The first words out of Michael's mouth as they attempted to reinstate their clothes were, "You're better than nice."
"Who said I was nice?" Sydney asked, distracted once more by the leather pants as she combed the floor with her fingers, searching for them.
"Your tattoo."
"It doesn't say nice, it says Nice."
"What the hell is Nice?"
"A place. In France."
"Important enough to get tattooed on your ass?"
"It's not on my ass." It was obvious that she wanted to end this conversation.
"Oh." He waited for the rustling to stop. "You done?"
"Yeah."
"Hungry?" he asked, opening the door for her.
The sudden light caused her to stop for a moment, letting her pupils adjust. "Where do you want to go?"
"Your choice."
"Let me get my shoes." She picked them up from under the pool table they had used and slid her arm through his. "Surprise me."
-
He made sure she was deep in slumber before reaching over her and pulling his phone out of the glove compartment. Muting it, he dialed seven digits. The engine purred a little as he waited for an answer.
"Yes?"
"I have Sydney Bristow."
"She was never missing." There was a touch of panic in the other man's voice. Sydney Bristow was a very well known asset.
"I know, but she's in no state to get herself home. And I'm not about to take her there."
"Okay." There was a pause. Surely the agent was informing someone else of the situation. "We're sending someone over to retrieve her."
He didn't ask how they knew where he was; it just wasn't a question. "Where are you taking her?" It wasn't that he cared for her. He wanted to make sure she would be safe. She was important.
"Not home."
"Keep her under surveillence."
"Trust me, she will be."
"Don't inform my father of my being in Los Angeles."
"Yes, sir."
He hit the end button and looked to his right. Sydney shifted in her seat and exhaled loudly. He took a deep breath and shifted out of park.
-
i couldn't just skip all this or the story would be more confusing than it already is. i take that back; this is definitely more confusing now than it was before, what with the "plot twists."
eh, it's official: i dont like this chapter. maybe the stress of exams causes me to write better...
my motto for this story? drunk sydney prevails! drunk kate does not.
Sydney leaned on the cue heavily, ignoring the fact that it might not hold her weight. She glanced at the bar and back to Michael, sending him a message. He raised a finger for the bartender to see. A few seconds later, a dry martini sat on the edge of the pool table before Sydney. She lifted it to her lips and downed it, save a tiny bit. Michael sidled up to her and asked, "Good?"
"See for yourself," she replied. She put the last of the drink in her mouth and kissed him harshly. He licked his lips and motioned to the bartender once more. In front of them appeared a grasshopper. This time, Sydney took the glass from the man and smiled at Michael. "More?"
"Do I ever." He placed a hand on her neck and bit her earlobe. A tremble flew through her before she moved so Michael was between the table and her. She took a sip and blindly put the glass on the table far away from them, accidentally smashing it. The green liquid tinted the already green felt, but neither Sydney nor Michael were watching it. She pushed Michael so he lay on the table and climbed on top of him, attacking.
-
The top came off faster than she had been able to put it on. There was no doubt—adrenaline had a rival. The leather pants were a completely different story. Even in her drunken state, she was adamant that they not be ripped off in the heat of the moment. It seemed they were stuck to her legs or to her huge muscles, but Michael had no trouble breathlessly pointing out the possibility that they were stuck to her hips. This, of course, was not what one said to someone they were about to make love to, but Sydney was unaware of the comment. The struggle to become undressed was not helped by the fact that they were in the dark. Or that the closet they occupied felt no bigger than an airplane bathroom.
Finally without clothing, Sydney and Michael ricocheted across the tiny room, taking in one another fully with their hands and mouths. Their sounds were definitely not masked by the flimsy door that Sydney found herself pressed against more than once. The primal feeling that came over both of them raged on inside for what felt like hours.
The first words out of Michael's mouth as they attempted to reinstate their clothes were, "You're better than nice."
"Who said I was nice?" Sydney asked, distracted once more by the leather pants as she combed the floor with her fingers, searching for them.
"Your tattoo."
"It doesn't say nice, it says Nice."
"What the hell is Nice?"
"A place. In France."
"Important enough to get tattooed on your ass?"
"It's not on my ass." It was obvious that she wanted to end this conversation.
"Oh." He waited for the rustling to stop. "You done?"
"Yeah."
"Hungry?" he asked, opening the door for her.
The sudden light caused her to stop for a moment, letting her pupils adjust. "Where do you want to go?"
"Your choice."
"Let me get my shoes." She picked them up from under the pool table they had used and slid her arm through his. "Surprise me."
-
He made sure she was deep in slumber before reaching over her and pulling his phone out of the glove compartment. Muting it, he dialed seven digits. The engine purred a little as he waited for an answer.
"Yes?"
"I have Sydney Bristow."
"She was never missing." There was a touch of panic in the other man's voice. Sydney Bristow was a very well known asset.
"I know, but she's in no state to get herself home. And I'm not about to take her there."
"Okay." There was a pause. Surely the agent was informing someone else of the situation. "We're sending someone over to retrieve her."
He didn't ask how they knew where he was; it just wasn't a question. "Where are you taking her?" It wasn't that he cared for her. He wanted to make sure she would be safe. She was important.
"Not home."
"Keep her under surveillence."
"Trust me, she will be."
"Don't inform my father of my being in Los Angeles."
"Yes, sir."
He hit the end button and looked to his right. Sydney shifted in her seat and exhaled loudly. He took a deep breath and shifted out of park.
-
i couldn't just skip all this or the story would be more confusing than it already is. i take that back; this is definitely more confusing now than it was before, what with the "plot twists."
eh, it's official: i dont like this chapter. maybe the stress of exams causes me to write better...
my motto for this story? drunk sydney prevails! drunk kate does not.