Everyone craves that rush that comes from something exhilarating or exciting. Perhaps from first love, or from a passion. This was meant to highlight that. It was going to be called 'Blushes' but I think Rushes is slightly better and they are both the running theme throughout.
Thanks for reading.
Rushes
She had a quick wit and a fast tongue. Quite a rude and bitter demeanour. She once stood so high on the edge of the precipice glaring down at the sea so longingly. So sadly. So much so, that she wished for it to claim her. So idyllic, this far fetched dream, she almost willed it to be a reality. It was never said, that beautiful feeling of being taken to another place, until once, she had found a small piece of solstice within the faraway gaze of a strange boy. It was as though a blinding light was flashing down upon the entire world. For a fast, few and strange seconds standing on the highest deck, with a soothing sea breeze, the ocean seemed to disappear and the blue became nothing and upon her delicate cheeks, she felt her blushes.
Blushes of colour which swept across her. All because of him. A beautiful pair of eyes which seemed to be able to see through to her soul in the most extraordinary way. One would deem him rude and uneducated in such ways of staring so openly at a woman but in return, all she could do was watch him back. Perhaps it was because she had felt courageous. Vivacious. Alive. But all in a matter of seconds, the connection was severed by a vicious grasp upon her arm pulling her back to the draining reality of her life.
The life which felt to be one endless parade of one thing and then the next. Every single face, every figure, every snippet of gossip…it all became part of one ever dull party. Oh, how her cheeks should have glowed, and flushed with the happiness of an accepted engagement, some even guessed that it was a love match; an attractive thirty-something man and his young bride-to-be. Instead, she felt like screaming in the middle of these crowded rooms in hopes that just one person raised their head to see her. They never would. Her fiance would compliment her, press his lips to her cheeks and not once did she blush at his efforts. Instead, she cringed.
Adrenaline rushed overcame her. Rushes of something which once upon a stupid evening, she succombed to and wound up at the stern of a ship, romanticising just how fast death would come to claim her if she jumped into the swirling waters of the Atlantic Ocean below her. Something changed then; something which caused her head to whip back when a voice came to change her entire world.
''Don't do it.''
And she didn't. No one had warned her about just what a single smile could do to a woman of her status. He was the light which was a sudden beacon about them in the darkness. When his hand was in hers, guiding her back to the right side of a life which she had chosen to live, adrenaline charged through her and even dangling from a great height as he had saved her life; from drowning in the darkness, from crashing into the unknown, she had been guided by his eyes.
Eyes which seemed to keep her awake that entire night, as she thought past her fiance; willing her to offer her heart to him, to open herself up to him in ways of both mental and physical. Even as he had pressed a priceless diamond to her throat, she failed to feel a single blush, a single rustle within her tummy for anyone other than the boy with the beautiful blue eyes.
''I'm Jack Dawson.''
A simple name, in contrast to her own complicated one.
''Rose DeWitt Bukater.''
''I think I may have to get you to write that one down.''
And she laughed. Truly. It was that very thought which propelled her to find him, the very next morning, with the sun shining as bright as could be. The warmth of it across her face was wonderful. Approaching third class, with as many as a few hundred eyes upon her, she felt her cheeks start to redden, until she laid her eyes upon him and in the crowds of the steerage, she could only focus on him.
He was easy to converse with; a laid back drawl, and a most charming smile. He listened to her, perhaps with a caring ear. He never sought to receive anything in return; perhaps he would have refused twenty dollars which had been the initial going rate to save her life. He didn't, however, dismiss her truly deep thoughts of despair and misery which had led to her decision to run endlessly to the stern. He, did, however, question her motives for marrying a man such as her fiance. And then, she was tongue tied.
Rude. Uncouth. Presumptuous. Oh, how, she had been a little stupid to believe that a male could be anything other than the rest; until he had smiled, and challenged her to leave. Yes, now she was rude. Now, she was the one indulging in their mild flirtation and soon, she was discovering another facet of a man who she deeply was intrigued by. He was an artist. A very good one.
She couldn't stop the blushes as he unveiled several women; all sketched by his own hand in Paris. All laid, unabashedly naked and strikingly beautiful. He was refreshingly honest about his love for the female form, to sketch it and to witness the beauty on his paper. The blushes, however, were simmering when she asked, so beyond her own control, ''I think you must have had a love affair with her.''
A strict denial, followed, and she couldn't help but feel the swarm of wasps which had started to sting at her stomach fly away and give way to another soothing insect; perhaps butterflies. They still fluttered about inside for the majority of the day as he spoke to her about his life, and she of her own. Oh, how the morning turned into afternoon and then, early evening. How could one forget to do the simple things such as attend luncheon, or attend the many amenities onboard a luxurious liner? Instead, she found a preference for conversing with all subjects with a man she had known barely a day. A preference for his honesty and refreshing outlook on life.
That evening, dressed as the most handsome man, Rose could ever imagine walking the earth, he had taken her hand to his lips, kissed it gently and then, the blush in her cheeks deepened. It was affecting her body and her mind. There was a sweetness to him, the one who's blue eyes had stolen her breath so many times since meeting. Many facets of a man had been unveiled to her; faces which she never even knew existed. Layers peeled away. Indescribable feelings had penetrated her, lingered with her even long after sleep had come to claim her; finally, after ever long thoughts were slowly seeping beneath her skin. It was as though, there had never been another man before him, not even the one she was engaged to be married to. Jack was an entity. It was mysterious, but incredibly real. Incredibly so. Incredibly real and it caused true feelings to surface from a great depth she had never even known existed.
Through an unopened door, he had reached out to her, breaking down barriers which had been firmly put in place. Though fear had kept her in place, caused her to tremble with such nerves as Jack Dawson had revealed that beneath the exteriors, beneath the artist; the man who lived life so unapologetically bohemian and free, was also a man who was tender and who had held her within his arms to dance, so many dances with. Her cheeks had become flushed with the excitement and the rush of something so forbidden. Even as they had witnessed a shooting star, which had pulled them both closer to the other, she had felt the air change about them then. That was when something happened that words could never define. His hands holding hers, his fingers at the base of her spine, his eyes so directly watching hers and then, moving fast or slow, to the beat of a song; flattened together and sacrificed herself to follow the rhythm of his body in a moulding way. Tasting the various elements of freedom, a small part which could belong to her had been both enlightening and painful because leaving the world, Rose had known that she could never return to it.
The realisation of such came to her like a thunderbolt; entering the world in which he existed, whilst it had scared her, was also exhilarating because her world was so damned predictable and so, when Jack had asked her that one question after seeing a shooting star: What would you wish for? Rose's response had been the most truthful answer which she had ever given. Something that I cannot have. It felt as though he was the man she wished to dance forever freely with, but of course, with many great nights, comes a dawning day.
A day which would change the way everyone saw the world for the rest of time.
Rose had felt submerged in an infatuation which had crawled into the very depths of her veins. She felt lethargic, suppressed and unresponsive. As though, life, without even a small part of Jack's presence was as though the sun hadn't set in a thousand years. He set her on fire; caused her stomach to to come alive, and her cheeks flush when she awoke from beautiful dreams in which his lips pressed against hers just for the most amazing second. They were simply dreams, though…
But then, he had done the unthinkable. Declared her the most amazing, astounding and wonderful girl that he had ever known. Offered her a hand out of her world. Even though Rose had to be the one to make the move, he would assist. He was involved. He cared about her. He loved the fire within her. The passion which she had discovered existed purely by coincidence of meeting him. With his hand at her bare cheek, and watery lined eyes, Rose had felt his breath right upon her lips. Felt his signs. Heard his heart pounding. Felt her cheeks burning. But with fear inside, she had left him there, with an instruction to leave her alone. She had lied about loving Cal. She had left him with the impression that his feelings were unrequited.
Why was Jack so very easy to open herself with? When her own fiance failed to do a damned thing but attempted to cultivate her into a version of a woman she would never be. It was frustrating to be a woman; her mother seemed to have accepted the limitations of life and as long as their purses were filled with coin, it seemed to be quite livable and one needn't thrive or feel a need for excitement; in fact, any untoward thoughts were squashed, like an annoying fruit fly buzzing about the bowl on a summer's day.
Even with fear about her, Rose had spent an entire tea listening to her mother speak with her friends about herself, about her daughter, as though she wasn't present. This entire life would be planned out by everyone but her, unless she took the reins of her destiny.
So she did.
With Jack, she had allowed him to open her heart without even truly knowing and now, it was raw and slowly bleeding because she had turned him away. A chance. An opportunity. Perhaps it would have been a great friendship, or a love affair aboard a ship or the greatest love which a person could ever know, but taking that chance had led her to the bow of the ship where he had truly stolen her breath away. Both of their faces were flushed with such exhilaration as soaring hundreds of feet above the ocean, with only his hands at her waist to keep her steady, Rose had trusted Jack with her entire life. Not only had he shown her the freedom, truly, but within his eyes, were the gentle emotions which reflected her own. The deep affection between them had not only startled her, but now was difficult to keep reined in or contained. As he moved closer to her, to her lips, his eyes focused so sharply on her own, Rose could only allow him to taste her and to succumb to what she did feel, because then, he kissed her mouth.
It was intimate. Hesitant. Gentle. Loving. And, yet, she felt the greatest passion in how he entwined their fingers and pulled her to him as though his own life depended upon her. When her lips moved, there needn't be a thought to it. Natural, graceful and fluid; it came to her like a second nature and as though she had been born to slide her mouth with his, slanting and moving to gain better access to each other. It didn't matter that she would run out of oxygen soon. Didn't matter that her knees felt truly weak and her only sense of reality was his hand gripping hers, and then her own fingers threaded into his wind knotted hair, feeling the silkiness. The endless ocean disappeared into nothing as it floated beneath them; two figures descending onwards at the bow of the greatest ship ever built and yet, nothing else existed but the other. Nothing else mattered but this complete and utter rush.
Taking Jack to her world, to the room in which she called home whilst aboard the ship had been a risky move, but something had inspired her and tripped every sense which he had awakened and now, Rose had wished to feel truly exhilarated. To shed her former self in the truest way. After allowing him to examine the Heart of the Ocean; the object which had sealed her fate with Cal, Rose had proposed a request but it was his cheeks which had blushed, when he had come to the realisation of her seriousness.
I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. Wearing this.
All right.
Wearing only this.
His eyes might have searched hers to determine whether or not there was sincerity. And, there was. With naivety and childhood left behind, Rose had shed the last layers of her former self and revealed another woman. One who had removed her engagement ring. Who had been deprived of the goodness of mankind. Now, she was about to uncover the truth from the lies, by stripping down with lights low and bare in front of a man and for the first time, there was no blushes. No shame. Just a woman baring her soul to a man. Such was her allure, although she seemed to fail to see that. She had felt devilishly pure until that very moment and when Jack found a moment to compliment her, she was getting rushes. She was fascinated that he didn't know just how to tell her to pose when he saw her; completely naked. There was a fine air of innocence about the man who had stolen her attention; the one who seemed to have somewhat experienced women in similar state of undress before and now, she was content to see him stumbling, blushing over a simple instruction.
It felt erotic. Witnessing his reaction had caused her heart to scatter about harder than when she had first revealed herself to him. She had felt the goosebumps across her breasts. Felt how hia#s eyes burned when they lingered about the most intimate parts of her and then, finding her gaze, she had shuddered. It felt erotic to him, too. She sensed the change in him. The nerves. The hesitance. But, the raw moment left her with nothing but a smile upon her face at his blush, at his stumble upon words. At how he flushed at looking at her right there; in the most intimate place and it was then, a passion was exploding within her belly.
Despite his artistry taking over as he sketched her, there were parts when Jack was truly bare as well. Stripped back and nerves. Aroused, maybe.
Now, though, there was nothing to hide behind. Not even when she had dressed, as he had kissed her again; this time playfully. Even playful as they had dashed through the ship to escape Cal's valet, and crashed into kitchen porters, stumbled down stairs and corridors and wound up in the boiler rooms. Their demeanour had changed; they were so alive. So young, reckless and carefree. For the very first time. Rose had laughed, loudly, and upon hearing her own giggle penetrate the air, it wasn't silenced but welcomed and Jack had watched, almost in awe as with completely flushed cheeks, they had run through the black hellish room which housed the ravenous boilers and the thunderous sounds of the work, that they were two small people, just running about an area which they weren't permitted to be in. Running, Freely.
Jack had caught her hand, to pull her back into a darkened alley between the boiler rooms and there, within his eyes, she had found a fire greater than anything which she had ever seen. Nerves flitted about. This time, his grasp on her had been firmer. His mouth found hers in the dim light and she clung to him for heaven and earth as his tongue touched her own. That strange and intoxicating concoction of being hot and yet very cold was overwhelming. The great backdrop of the world melted away again and she could only respond how her body wished to and soon, the passion seemed to exude from them both and Rose clung to him, as lips moved from her own, down to her neck and threads of fire moved down her spine causing her to almost collapse until they had found some strength to move forward to the coolness of the cargo hold.
How was it possible to flit between such amore to playful as almost feeling a need to calm the passionate spirits. How could her cheeks be flushed from both exhilaration and passion? How could she gain such a rush from one man?
How could she not want more than just a rush as she claimed him, to drag him into the backseat of a dark Daimler; where she faced the moment of truth.
To the stars...
It could have been a reference to the shooting star they had witnessed the night before. It could have been because he had already shown her how to soar across the ocean, but, all she knew was that his kiss had incited something within her as a woman. In the backseat, as she had tenderly kissed his fingers, to appreciate just how talented he truly was, Rose had felt his hammering heart against her arm and her stomach soared in response.
It was inevitable then, what would happen and it would remove all the last remaining barriers, if any existed between them any more. The rush seemed to come to a complete halt.
Are you nervous?
No.
But she was. It wasn't a lie of omission. It wasn't even a lie. Because her nerves didn't stem from giving herself to him but from how she would fall desperately in love with him over the course of the tender moments which would unfold.
He was nervous, she could tell.
Adrenaline rushed towards her as she guided his hand to explore her breasts and Rose had encountered sensations one never had before. The feeling of a man, completely bare, skin to skin against her own flesh was wonderful. The beating of two hearts pressed together and hammering as with curious eyes, they found a way to join in body and soul and those budding feelings seem to bloom along with Rose's womanhood as Jack made love to her. His weight upon her, between her thighs, moving with her and entwining limbs, although new, were welcomed as she pulled him into her, any way in which she could, to gain access to him and his soul. His eyes had barely left hers, not even when he had broken through that barrier of her virginity. Even when she had flinched with pain. Even when he had struggled to push against her and it was that, which had given her the strength to continue. Hands explored, and tongues touched as when she had started to squirm, in a strange building of an eruption, Rose's palm had flown to the cool rear window in a mad rush. Overwhelmed, exhausted and exhilarated. But it was Jack's shudders, his wracking and heaving body as he, too, experienced the same dizzying heights which she had just, which made her eyes lined with tears. She had felt how powerful it felt for him, as well as her. With the life truly drained out of them, Rose could only watch him with the same awe as he did her, at the pure wonder of how they could make each other feel.
He was trembling. So was she.
She was blushing. So was he.
They were still one. As the rush of adrenaline died off and left them laid together, bound for a lifetime.