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At the Bookstore - Part Five #Vegas

11/30/2015

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AT THE BOOKSTORE
PART FIVE

            The post Thanksgiving day holiday shopping crowd fill the aisles of the bookstore and I can't concentrate on writing. Paranoid thoughts that everyone watches my every move rattle my brain and instead of doing anything, I'm sitting here sipping coffee. I wait for something, anything to give me a spark and begin the story in my mind. 

             Saul isn't nearby and that makes me wonder. He always lectures me about never straying from him, but do as I say not as I do - men. I need to breathe, relax, let all the frustrations of this week go or I won't get anything written in my notebook. 

            A man stares a me, only a few feet away and a hint of fear rises up my legs. Why do you men creep instead of saying something? Open your mouth. 

            "Are you selling that book?" 

            The question surprises me and I almost forgot George put a few copies of my novel on the table next to me. Trying to manage a smile, I analyze him with more care. He's tall, with long flowing brown hair that hits him mid-back. Leaning towards me, he casts a shadow over my chair and that fear creeps higher into my belly. Why does this man give me the willies?

            "Yes, sorry. I am...I mean, yes I'm selling the book." 

            Heat flushes over my face and I turn from him for a moment. At times even simple human contact fills me with anxiety. 

            "Are you going to tell me how much it costs or what it's about? Or am I to guess on both counts?" 

            My mind spins and I struggle to think of a response. Breathe, Ella, breathe. 

            "Ten dollars. The book...is about a female serial killer. Young, blonde, and beautiful, she butchers rapists in Las Vegas." 

​            Running his eyes over my body, he glances at the book again. "Is it an autobiography." 

            "No, it's fiction." 

            "Because..."

            "Don't," I interrupt him. "I don't want to hear it."

            He whistles and leans an arm against the back of my chair, getting closer to me. "Can't be selling many books with that attitude. I was going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I'm guessing you already know."

            "Listen. I've heard it all from men. Every stupid fucking attempt to pick me up you can possibly imagine...do you want to buy the book or not? Ten dollars. Take it or leave it."

            Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he tosses a twenty dollar bill on the table, but doesn't answer my question. 

            "I don't have change," I say. 

            "Give me two copies and your phone number." 

            Where is Saul? 

            Signing two copies, I hold the books out to him and notice his pretty hazel eyes. At least he's a handsome creep. I'll give him that much. 

            "And your number?" 

            "Trust me, you don't want that."

            He laughs and stuffs the books into the inside pockets of his black leather jacket. "Don't say it like that, it makes me want it more." 

            Sighing, I grab a pad from the table and rip off a page. 

            "Your face is on the stationary? A girl going places." 

            I hand him the page with my number and cross my arms, hoping he'll go away and leave me alone. Instead, he takes the seat opposite me and plants his leather shoes on the carpet. I close my laptop and put it into my backpack. My writing plans are bust, why not research the next chapter? 

            "Tell me your name, sir." 
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A Gift on #BlackFriday in #Vegas

11/27/2015

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A GIFT
BLACK FRIDAY IN VEGAS

            Black Friday means nothing to me. All the fake Christians fighting for a space in line to light money on fire in a group ritual of gross excess makes me laugh. Oh, all the irony that you can muster in one day. Weren't we saying thanks yesterday for all that we have? Just kidding. That's the American joke. Irony on top of irony.

             I hear a knock at the door and decrease the volume on the stereo. Ray enters holding something behind his back and smiling. Tilting his head, he listens to the music for a few moments.

            "Isn't this song a bit cliche for you, my love?" 

            Ignoring his jab, I smile.

            "Do you have flowers for me?" I can't tell you how much I adore getting flowers. Especially roses. My turn to be cliche ironic. But, I don't give a damn. Roses are so pretty. 

            Shaking his head, I watch him take a seat next to me on the bed and wait for him to spring the surprise. 
            He places a book in my lap and moves closer to me. 

            "Take your shoes off, mister."

            Pulling off his shoes and pants and everything else, he reclines next to me, naked. Taking the book into my hands, I read the description on the back cover and the author bio. 

            "You bought me a naughty book. Now I know what you want from me, sir." I kiss his cheek and wink. 

            "As if I'd be after something different if I brought roses."

            At that moment, George enters the room with a cart containing breakfast, coffee, and a vase of roses. 
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            "You never forget the roses, Ray." 

            When George leaves, Ray lifts the sheets and rolls his body on mine. Parting my thighs with his hands, he pushes into me with sudden ferocity. His eyes stay with mine and I place my arms around his neck.

            "Roses and music and a book..." I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of him throttling my body. He lifts my legs and pounds against me, driving me into the mattress. 

            His breathing grows heavy and I know he will orgasm soon. Opening my eyes, I pull his body closer to me. "Make a baby in me."

            With a grunt, his body seizes and he spasms against me. Joy spreads through my veins, I love nothing more than these moments with him and imagine that this very second he is putting a baby in my womb.

            Panting, he collapses on top of me and I rub his back, whispering into his ears. "I hear we have to do this a lot to make a baby. A real lot."

            "We have all day. Black Friday means nothing to us."

            The idea warms my heart, but a thought flutters in my mind. Not all day, my love. Tonight, on this American holiday called Black Friday, there will be a trial. 
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#SerialPlaylist - Lana Del Rey - Serial Killer

11/27/2015

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#SerialPlaylist - Mozart - Concerto for Flute and Harp in C, K. 299

11/1/2015

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