Pain like fire, burning me outside in. How can I breathe, how can I live, how do I make it? How do I wake up and move, knowing that I can't see her today, or tomorrow, or a world of tomorrows? She needed me; I'd given her all that she had. She was everything, the standard, the beauty of the world. Her hairs still clung to the cover of my couch, from when she'd last lay there. The echoes of her laughter still reverberated through every room of my place, filling it with emptiness. She crushed me, she burnt me, and she made me a slave to the prison of my lonely thoughts.
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Naugahyde cradled my thighs kindly, as it had bar patrons for centuries before me. The hard liquor burned by throat, biting me, so unlike the wine that I usually imbibed in. Little patterns formed on the cracked wooden countertop, spilled beer and disinfectant spray pooling into the joints and flowing in sickly rivulets. A scuffle erupted behind me.
"She was mine you fuck." Fist connected on bone and flesh. Flecks of blood sprayed the already filthy floor. It's always over a girl. Would it faze her I wonder, if I were to fight him for her hand. Excite her to see a pair of men fight over her like a bone? What primal forces infected her blood and made of her a beast beyond by comprehension. They may have made her lovelier than the night, but they'd made her as cruel as the darkness. Even through the incomprehensible pain which her words had caused me, I'd sensed the animalistic delight she had taken in ripping me to shreds. Maybe I deserved it. When a tourist hops the fence to pet the tigers, they can't complain when they get mauled.
No damn it, I should have her. I splash my fist angrily in the primordial soup before me. I fought for her, I win her. The weariness closes over me and I come dangerously close to leaning my head on the counter. Sobs rip unrestrainedly through me; I am truly drunken and alone.
"What great tragedy can have such a man to tears?" The husky contralto tone of the voice at my shoulder ripples up and down my spine. She gasps softly, deep in her throat and brushes her fingers against my arm. "No, not a tragedy, it was a woman of course; a silly woman who couldn't see what she had. Only a little fool would toy with such a man." A prostitute of course, but I couldn't help but listen to one who's words soothed the ache in my chest.
"Not looking to buy company." As a man of principle I should send her on her way. Her chuckle reverberates richly through the alcohol haze.
"Finding a man of true morals is so rare, but you mistake yourself. I'm not for sale handsome." My face flushes in deep embarrassment at my shameful assumptions. I attempt to stutter out an apology.
"Why don't you make it up to me and buy me a drink handsome." My drunken face turns up happily; maybe a little company wouldn't be a bad thing, a pair of willing arms to erase the bad memories for a night. I wave my hand at the bar tender, and she slides sinuously into the seat beside me.
My breath catches in my throat as she leans into the light and I get my first look at her. Not the drug-wasted face of a lifelong bar fly, which her forwardness had caused me to expect. Instead, I found flawless mocha skin complemented by a tiny clinging, crimson dress, and an exotic oval face framed by a cloud of the darkest brown hair. She was gorgeous and erotic. She could have been Max's older sister. Except that Max had never exuded seduction at me as this woman was.
She is speaking, her husky tones washing over me, but the content of her words is beyond the comprehension of my drunken mind. I begin to slide off of the barstool, and her breasts press suggestively against my flesh as she catches me in deceptively strong arms.
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The smoke rushes into my lungs, helping to wipe the taste of him from my mouth. I couldn't say that I had been pleased, I'd expected better from a man who had kept company with the fearless leader of the transgenics. To think that White had been unable to defeat a woman who had been this man's lover.
In all fairness, he had been drunk last night. He'd been well drunk past the point of reason or caring. Giving him some credit he had never betrayed the actual identity of his old lover, but who else should the "stupid girl bringing ruin to her people" be. The information had been worth a night of drudgery.
Max and her watchdog would be meeting with Senator Heather Burnhart tomorrow, in the official's downtown Seattle headquarters. For an entire day both of them would be leaving the safety of their Terminal city exile. That wasn't the best dirt I had gotten though. His name was Alec, the watchdog's, and Logan seemed to think that he was responsible for stealing Max's heart away. The poor man had been very adamant over this point. He had thought that Alec's behavior was particularly low, because dear Alec had been in trouble with the law some time ago for a murder committed by a twin, and Logan had generously cleared the trouble up for him. The fool had railed for some time about the ingratitude of the two of them, his old lover and her new lover.
My one night stand lay in his bed, oblivious to his surroundings. Thank the fates that he'd been carrying a license. It would have taken too much energy to bring him back to my place, and then get him safely away without being spotted by any of my dear brothers or sisters. Better to leave now, and leave him to wonder if it had all been some beautiful dream. If I needed him again, I knew where to find him.
