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One Night in Short, Dirty Pieces #01

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Blonde

Out into the snow, the temporary shelter of the overpass, the heavy down jacket the only thing between him and hypothermia, in search of a party. He had the address written – oh so cool, like a goddamn barfly or something – on a matchbook, but when he got to the right neighbourhood he got utterly turned around and wound up in a convenience store full of hip young things (it was that part of town) all looking for their own individual parties. That’s why God made cell phones right? Everyone was on the phone to someone who knew someone who knew where the party was – he was pretty sure some of them were probably talking to each other. He was no better.

“Y’ello.”

“Dude, where the fuck is this party?”

“Oh, hey man! Are you here?”

“No that’s…” he pressed his thumb into one eye-socket, his forefinger into the other, he should never have called Travis. The guy already sounded hammered. “I’m asking you where the fucking party is. Why would I be calling you from inside the party?”

“Shit, I don’t know man, I’m pretty tanked already.”

“Trav. Focus. Where is the party? I’m at a… convenience store with a yellow sign.”

“Oh dude, you’re like here already. Go out into the parking lot and look for the old cool looking building with the… like spire. That’s it. You’re at the store? I need potato chips man. I need them so bad.”

“You got it, see you soon.” One less idiot on a cell phone steaming up the windows.

– – –

In the queue that stretched almost to the back of the store with an alarmingly large sack of potato chips and a six-pack of beer that wasn’t completely terrible, but that almost all of his micro-brew loving buddies would be guaranteed to turn their noses up at. Of course he noticed her. He was a guy, he was single, he had noticed every single girl in the line, especially the one with the cute, square glasses and the pixie cut right behind him.

“Ah… hey.” And now she was talking to him.

“Hi.”

“Sorry to be like this, I’m sure it’s going to sound terrible, but I heard you talking on the phone over there…”

“Oh God, I know, I sounded like an utter asshole, you don’t have to… At least I was in good company right?” Hands in pockets he slung an elbow at the clutch of wool hats and panelled coats yelling down their phones facing the magazine rack.

“No, I mean yeah. No-one looks good talking loudly on a phone in public.”

“Right?” He kept eye contact, he resisted all temptation to look down. He was casual, he was cool – he just wished his peripheral vision was able to take in more details than that she was wearing a very puffy looking white coat and that legs were somehow involved. A lot of legs (meaning that there was a lot of leg showing, not that she had more than two).

“Well anyway I was meant to be going on a date tonight, and that went wrong in the most ridiculous way…”

“What happened?” He was smiling. There was something about her that made him want to smile straight off – the way she kept half looking off when she started a sentence, then immediately remembered that she should be looking at him and kind of re-centred herself. If was very, very cute. She was at least six inches shorter than him.

“Would you believe when I rang the buzzer I was interrupting him, mid coitus, with his not-so-ex?”

“Oooh,” he laughed.

“They came to the door together – wrapped up in a blanket.”

“They did what?”

“I know!” she looked away properly now, her brow wrinkling, her hands coming up out of her pockets to emphasise the unfairness of it. “Who acts like that?”

“You were well out of that,” he reassured her, hoping that this was going where he thought it was, and if it wasn’t that the line would maintain it’s present, glacial pace so that he could talk to this girl for as long as possible. Her face was pretty, but not thin. It had a softness to it that couldn’t help but make her look – for want of a better word – kind. The glasses and the hair were perfect, they gave her a sharpness that she would have been lacking otherwise. He really wanted to stop time and really give her a thorough once over, but it was getting very quickly to the point where that wasn’t all that important.

“So I’m having a sucky night. I live round the corner and I was just going to go home and mix myself a vicious nightcap of some kind and curl up with Val Kilmer…”

“Val…”

“…Don’t judge me – and then I heard you speaking on the phone, and I thought: what the hell.”

“Wow,” he grinned.

“So?” She looked up at him, and he only kept her hanging on for a few seconds.

“Would you like to go to a party with me?”

“I’d love to!” Her smile, a light that illuminated her whole face and made her cheeks perk up adorably, was really something.

“So I’ll buy this and… wait what were you getting?”

“Oh I wasn’t going to buy anything,” utterly casual, “I just got in line to talk to you.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Can I chip in on those beers?”

“Sure halkalı escort thing.”

– – –

She left the store before him, and he offered up a little prayer of thanks. Legs were, most definitely involved, though a little differently to how he’d originally thought. She was wearing a denim skirt that was – well if it wasn’t a mini then it was minimal, and it hugged her ass so well that he almost didn’t get past it. Above it the white puffy coat with the fur-trimmed hood that he’d clocked before, and below it, like the cherry on the sundae, amazing, knee-high, black and white striped socks. They were running the risk of being a little too goth, but the blue sneakers and the denim were saving her, and they made her legs look… wow.

She wasn’t slim, but the curves she was blessed with were… faultless. The kind of guy who wouldn’t turn his head to look twice at her was the kind of guy who had been brainwashed by the media into thinking all wrong about what makes a girl cute. In his head he didn’t know how to describe her because she wasn’t what she would call ‘plump’ or… anything as trite as that, but she wasn’t thin. Ah, why was he thinking like this? She was what she was – plain cute. She waited for him outside. He scanned the ring of buildings surrounding them.

“That one.”

“Whose party is it?”

– – –

As if that was important.

He didn’t recognise the lofty guy who pulled the door open for them, and in the packed apartment there didn’t seem to be more than half a dozen faces he could place at all. One of them was like a six-foot vertical stripe of shellac. T-shirt, tattoos and jeans that were painfully tight to even look at – he was sinking into the middle of the couch. He waved drunkenly as they came in.

The kitchen first, to deposit the beer, that was usually how these things worked, but here they had stalled in a throng of bodies in the living room, right in front of Travis. He threw the potato chips at the skinny punk, who let them fall into his lap.

“Danny! Danny, who’s your friend?”

“Trav, hey. This is…” there was something about not knowing the name of the girl he was bringing to the party that made him want to laugh with joy. It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask. He indicated her with both hands, as though introducing tonight’s special guest.

“Holly.” There were people sitting cross-legged on the floor between them and Travis so she just waved in response to the hand he held out.

“Travis. I’m young Daniel’s sexual mentor.”

“That so?” A raised eyebrow and a sidelong glance. He melted.

“Speaking of which,” Travis was a few more than three sheets to the wind, “didja get me those chips Dan?” Dan made a finger-pistol and put a hole in the bag where it lay in his friends lap. “So you did.”

– – –

First alcohol.

Then out on the balcony of all places. It was cold but somebody had said hell to the electricity bill and hefted out two sizable electric heaters that made it possible for two or three people to lean against the railing, hogging the warm orange glow that they produced. When the three people who had been out there came in Dan and Holly took their chance.

“So those legs of yours…”

“Yes?” the light, too relaxed laugh of the pleasantly buzzed.

“Don’t they get cold? Are those socks enough?” He tried to put genuine concern into his voice, but wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off at all.

“Have you never suffered for fashion?” She turned, put her back to the rail and let her front get warmed. He followed suit.

“I feel like meat. I’m going to keep turning over until I’m cooked on both sides.”

She poked him in the side, below his folded arms and he flinched in surprise. “Not done yet,” she shrugged.

The windows were steamed up so much they were opaque, but they could still make out colours and shapes that made it look like people had started dancing inside.

“You don’t really know anyone at this party do you?” she teased. “I mean, I was worried that you might have a bunch of people to talk to and I’d have to rely on my natural charm to make small talk with strangers, but you’ve been talking to me the whole time.”

“I know a few people,” he shrugged, swigged on his beer, felt cool, probably wasn’t. “Just happens that you’re more interesting than any of them. I know who they are, I had no idea who you were.”

“So, once you’ve uncovered everything there is to know about me you’ll stop talking to me?”

“Once the mystery has completely vanished…” he wiggled his fingers and raised his hands – smoke dispersing, “maybe.” After a moment: “It’s nice to get away from the mob out here.” He turned again and this time she copied him; looking out at the black sky, the patchwork of illuminated windows, the occasional snow flurry. Actually it had been pretty easy for them to be private inside. The place was so packed and noisy that no one was listening in on other conversations, taksim escort and little pockets of space kept forming between people’s backs like tiny temporary rooms.

That said it wasn’t really the atmosphere either of them had been looking for. Well, he hoped she felt the same way that he did. She. Holly. He hadn’t used her name yet and he rolled it, soundlessly, off his tongue experimentally. He was getting a little drunk. They had already finished his beers and moved onto whatever else came to hand.

“Wanna do something stupid?” She had been watching him. Had he mouthed her name in a really obvious way? Ah, he had an alcohol based pass, he was pretty sure.

“Always.”

“Follow me.” She was sitting on the balcony railing before he knew it and he half reached out, involuntarily, to catch her. “Relax, I’m not that drunk. Yet.”

The balconies on this building were of a pretty standard 70s design in that they were made as one long concrete ledge that stuck out from the side of the building and ran its entire length. They were divided for each apartment with pastel-hued floor to ceiling metal panels that were bolted into the floor, the wall and the ceiling. Holly shuffled right up next to the partition and, as he watched, she held on to the railing and the partition itself and swung one leg out into the snow speckled void, then brought it back in on the other side of the metal panel.

“Fuck I’m gonna die,” he laughed, sure that he’d read about something like this leading to some young idiot’s doom in the past. Her trailing leg had already followed its double around and she was safely on the next apartment’s balcony, leaning out and grinning at him around the barrier.

“Whatcha waiting for?” A dare that he had no intention of turning down. Focussing himself, moving slowly to combat the giddy confidence the alcohol had stirred up in him, he followed her.

Of course as he was sitting with one leg on either side of the thin metal wall he looked down and turned his gut into a vertiginous whirlpool. He couldn’t resist. He saw another half dozen ledges like the one he was on jutting out, a flat roof that must have been the lobby and after that the street, car heads and tails illuminating the piles of snow and the huddled forms of those who still had somewhere to go.

He brought his leg around the barrier and hopped onto the same concrete – a whole new balcony. His hand was on his chest, feeling his heart pound. Hers was too.

“Jesus, it’s cold out here.”

“No kidding!” he laughed, “Why did you take us away from those fucking heaters?” He straightened up, and it only seemed natural to wrap his arms around her, to pull her to him. They were sharing much needed body heat. Around her back his fingers complained and he clenched them into the cotton of her coat.

“Not private enough,” she whispered, and they heard someone new come out onto the balcony they had just deserted accompanied by a blast of noise from the party. The windows they were next to now were black, seemingly empty. He wasn’t thinking straight anyway, she was leaning up now. Close but not close enough.

He decided to make another witty comment but somewhere the electrical impulse hopped onto the wrong synapse and he kissed her instead.

There was a height difference but it didn’t take much more than inclining his head and her reaching up a little to remove it. Then their lips met and there were white flecks behind his eyelids, like the snow out in the dark. Her lips seemed so, so hot in the freezing night air, they seared him. Full and soft and wet and then they parted and he tasted – for all the alcohol they had been imbibing – he tasted cherries.

The kiss didn’t stop and their bodies fell under its sway and her tongue was in his mouth, meeting his, and his eyes opened as she stumbled into him and his back bumped against the thin partition that separated them from where they’d come from. Neither of them needed to breathe and their mouths were hotter, harder, more demanding. Leaning against the metal he could angle his body and reduce the height difference even more and his hands came off her back and slid down.

Her hands were up flat on his chest, spread flat and pressing him, keeping him in place. He found the soft, sweet curve of her ass and had no restraint, just grabbed it, sinking his fingers in and enjoying it as much as he wanted.

When they finally broke apart they seemed to be surrounded by clouds of steam – their hot, panting breaths floating out into the night. Voices came from behind him, it seemed that no-one knew they were there.

“Hi Holly,” he grinned again.

“Hi Dan,” she pursed her lips as if suppressing a smile, and then they were kissing again, his hands cupping and squeezing her succulent rump as she explored the contours of his thin chest. She found his nipples and gave them a light pinch. “Hard!”

“It’s fucking freezing out here!”

“Wait,” she pulled away şişli escort from him and his hands missed her backside immediately. She was right up against the big French window, trying to peer inside, into the apartment whose balcony they had invaded. He thrust his hands into his pockets and gave the winter wind a sour glare. Then he looked back sharply as his brain caught up.

“You’re not thinking of…”

“Shhh, I think it’s empty.”

“Hey c’mon, we can’t break into somebody’s place.”

“No, I mean I don’t think anyone lives here. There aren’t any curtains.” Just like that her small hand was fumbling with the recessed handle and… “Whaddaya know?” She gave him a smile that was half joy, half sinful intent as the window slid open.

“Holy crap,” he laughed. He had no trouble choosing the rash option. He followed her in.

Darkness and dust, illuminated only by the pale orange sky of a snowy night in the city and the faint amber of the city lights. On the ceiling the headlights of passing cars made a constantly strobing pattern where they could reach up past the balcony.

Holly had been right. There were no curtains, there was no furniture. The apartment was identical to the one they had just abandoned but it hadn’t been rented for a long time. With exaggerated movements they stepped through a thin carpet of dust on the faux-wooden floor – Indiana Joneses exploring a lost temple.

“Holy crap,” he whispered again and she couldn’t stifle the high, giddy giggle that he provoked.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I did that.”

“What,” his voice dry and withering, “You mean you don’t break-and-enter neighbouring properties at every party you attend?”

“Only when I’ve got a cute boy to break-and-enter with.” She turned back to him and at the same time he had his arm around her and they were kissing again. Passionate, unrestrained, uncontrollable; her beestung lips dragging over the stubble on his upper lip, then finding his mouth and they were opened and joined and lost. The party next door was clearly audible through the wall, but the feeling in their new apartment was one of utter silence.

Her hands came down, inside his jacket, lifting his t-shirt, but he caught her wrists just as her freezing finger-tips touched his stomach. It was cold in the unlit, unheated room, just not as cold as it had been outside. “Lets double check the place first, ok?”

“Before what?” she smiled, the dirtiest smile he’d seen crack across her cute features yet, but she stepped away in agreement.

The power was off, but the mains switch was just inside the front door so they flicked the fat breaker and a single recessed bulb in the kitchen area brought a little more light to their location. The bathroom smelled stale and the light in the bedroom worked, but the room was so cold it may has well have been outside. The living room had no working light, but the light shining out of the kitchen reached it and gave them all the illumination they needed.

And the wall mounted heater worked. With a sleepy rattle of complaint it hummed to life and in minutes was pumping hot air out, stirring up the dust, bringing feeling back to their fingers and toes.

They squatted, both apparently squeamish of getting down and dirty in the dust. On their toes and their haunches in front of the heater, they stayed close enough to kiss as warmth breezed past, carrying the smell of burning dust.

When he was warm enough to think straight Dan rose, grabbing Holly’s wrist quickly but gently and leading her two steps to a built in shelf that kind of acted as a ledge. He half sat, half leaned against it and pulled her to him again. Her hands slipped inside his jacket once more and immediately dropped to lift his tee.

“I’m gonna have cold fingers.” She bit her lip and looked up at him.

“You might not think it to look at me,” he gave a crooked smile, “but I’m pretty tough.” She lifted his shirt and touched her fingers to his flesh and he hissed, he gasped. “Holy shit, that’s cold.”

“Big tough guy, huh?” She leaned into him and trapped her own hands. He felt her heat, pressed against him all the way up, and for the first time his excitement crossed over to arousal. His heart pumped, his blood flowed and his prick gained weight and form in his jeans. Her lips sucking at his neck now, he gasped at the heat rather than the cold and let his head fall back.

When had she unzipped her coat? He hadn’t noticed, but under the thick down layer she was wearing a tight teal sweater that, again, showed off her curves delectably. He couldn’t really see it all that well though, before she was against him. He hoped he’d get another chance.

One of her hands rose, pushing up his shirt more and running over his chest. The other sank, sank between his stomach and the tight waistband of his jeans. There wasn’t much room for exploration but he felt her stroking and tugging faintly at his hair. More blood. Thicker. Harder.

But his hands? He had almost forgotten them, they were beside him, propping him against the ledge, but now they returned to the sweet ass they had so loved earlier. He cupped and sighed with pleasure to feel the weight, the shape of it, even as Holly’s lips reached his cheek, then he leaned forward a little and hooked his fingers under the denim hem and started to pull up.

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