Thank you so much for the reviews, guys!
moonmagik (Did I get that right): No worries, I absolutely get what you're saying. As a reader, I often indulge in just some shameless, guilty-pleasure, shippy fanfics, and I love them to death - Instant gratification. But at heart, I'm a poet. So I try to push the boundaries as a writer. And - quite honestly - in writing a story, I care about 10% about the plot, and 90% about expressing the feeling behind it. Same with all other art forms I create/view of others'. And I absolutely get that it's confusing, cause I want it to be. Yes, I'd love it if everybody whose ever read what I've written got everything out of it that I wanted them to. But I don't want it to come easy - I want to make people stop, and consider something, and try to feel what I'm attempting to convey... You know?
Anyway, if that sounds overly-whatever, sorry. I've been working on this compilation of poems I'd like to have published eventually, so I'm feeling all artsy.
The point of this post is: I just so happen to have a copy of the "MooseNotes" that I had written for the fandom I'd posted this in previously. I mostly went back through and changed the names, so if you see "Katee" it's Parker, and "Joshua/Josh" is Hardison.
MooseNotes™ For Part One
It was just sex. (Fairly straightforward, lol)
Basically, two people (The girl is Parker) are having sex, but in a purely carnal way. There's no feeling behind it. She's basically hardened herself to the experience, because, as a prostitute, she has no choice.
She's a professional in every sense of the word. She's moaning and pretending the experience is pleasurable, but it's all for the benefit of the client. She digs her nails into him, hoping to leave a mark so someone, anyone, will remember her, even if just as a hooker.
The guy, on the other hand, is enjoying the sex. He's panting and biting her neck, which she sees as just another wound in the literal and figurative sense. She finds that she lives in a place without any light (not literally, lol). And basically, she merely exists. She's stranded in this way of life, unable to do anything about it.
She's performing the actions of sex, and mentally blocking out everything she's doing. He's kneading her breasts, and she's just staring blankly past him to the ceiling. She is in pain, without any sexual arousal or pleasure to offset it. Her mind screams for her to fight him off, but she doesn't. She does, however, stop moving.
He grips her tightly to the point of bruising, and shakes her, screaming for her to look at him while they have sex. She ignores him, so he shakes her again. She looks at him, and goes back to performing the mindless sex, pretty much rehearsed to just be the biological form of the actions, without any feeling behind them. He thrusts into her one last time, and his semen leaks out of the condom, which prompts her to start crying.
He disengages, picking her panties off the floor and maliciously wiping himself with them. The panties are described in connection with Parker, herself.
He picks up his wallet, takes out the cash, and throws it over her naked body. It's like a slap to her. She weeps, gathering the money whilst wrapping the sheets around her naked form. She throws him out, slamming the door and putting the deadbolt in place. She finds the sound has a certain finality to it that's appropriate with what has just happened. She knows that nobody in the outside world cares what has just happened. She slides down the wall and onto the stained carpet and weeps.
Meanwhile outside… Hardison is standing in the shadows, his hand partially in his pocket as he fingers the syringe in there and contemplates using it (He's a druggy). He brings it out of his pocket and holds it in front of his face to contemplate it.
Just then, he's pulled out of his concentration by a voice he recognizes. She's speaking to a man in an expensive car, pressing her breasts against the open window to showcase them, inviting him to come upstairs with her for sex. He wants to, but he glances down at his watch, and reluctantly drives away. Hardison finds himself relieved at her rejection.
Hardison whistles at the girl (Parker). She turns to him, flipping the hair of her blue wig as she does. She looks at him seductively. As she does, he thinks up this memory of her from long ago (i.e. The First David Job) when he once felt her soft, wild (taking artistic license) hair slipping between his fingers, as he entangled them there before they kissed. He wonders if the hair beneath her wig is as crazy as it was back then. He tilts his head to the side as he contemplates her, noticing that her face now has a façade of seduction. She winks, walking toward him, clearly hoping to seduce them.
She speaks to him in a deep, husky tone that's nothing like the voice he remembers. He stares at her lips, wishing he could kiss her as he once did, but knowing he can't.
She laughs nervously, though he knows nobody would notice her discomfort unless they knew her as well as he did. She introduces herself as Alice. This is a reference to Alice White – her alias in The Juror #6 Job. She reaches her hand out for him to shake (in a cute/seductive sort of way), but he looks almost afraid to touch her (which he is). So instead she reaches it even further and scrapes her fingers down his chest. He shivers and closes his eyes. Lost oin the feeling, he lets himself step out into the light, and realizes he has given himself away. He, too, looks different after all he's been through, but she recognizes him, still.
Still in character, she invites him upstairs, placing her hand to cup the side of his stubbly cheek. He nods against it. He's too afraid to speak and let slip something he's not ready to tell her yet, so he waits until they're upstairs.
