I’m 2100 words into “Vigil” and foreseeing at least another thousand five or two before I’ll call the first draft done. The next flash scene of what I started with Friday’s “Suicidal Unicorn” is half-done in my head — and y’all need to blame Julie for encouraging me to write more of that — and while the next installment of “Infinite Space” looks to be postponed indefinitely, Rick has me more than intrigued to rewrite a spec script I did a few years back as a drama, “The Morning After”.
I’m also toying with the notion of posting a dark, experimental (for me) piece called “Eurydice”. We’ll see about that one.
Until then, I offer a character piece I did a bit ago, dug from the very bowels of my Writing folder, for a story that may indeed one day go somewhere (but that day sure isn’t today).
“I’m sorry. No.”
He had his arm halfway around her shoulder again, congratulating himself on a job well done in landing her for the fifteen minutes it would take to get bored of her when the word “no” registered in his head. “No?”
She shrugged his arm off her shoulders and took a step back. “No.”
He tried his best to remember the last time a woman had said no to sex with him. He thought long and hard, went all the way back to high school in his head, but all the women, whether they were tall or short, fat or thin, drop-dead gorgeous or just this side of living under a bridge were saying yes yes yes. Now, for the first time, someone was actually telling him… “No?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Is the word itself given you trouble? It means I’m not interested.”
He gave her his patented I’m-so-cute-just-love-me smile with extra wattage, knowing there were very few people in the world who could resist his charm. “Are you sure? I guarantee it’d be the best time you’d ever had.”
She smirked, actually had the nerve to smirk. “I highly doubt it.”
He scowled. It wasn’t his best expression, but it still made him look brooding and dark, and that was key with a certain audience. Maybe she was one of those types of people, and he certainly didn’t mind going slightly out of character for a better chance at getting laid. “You know, sexpot, there are eight thousand women out there who’d love to be in your position right now.”
“Then why don’t you go bother some of them?” she said. “I’m sure they’d be happy to save you the trouble by carving their own notches into your bedpost.”
For the life of him, he couldn’t understand this chick. Not even a little. “No one’s ever said no to me before.”
“Then you were overdue. You should thank me for doing you that favor. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” And then the prettiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on, so smoking hot he wanted to cry, turned her back on him and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
He watched her go, still frowning and confused. He couldn’t even see her anymore past the mob of bodies in the garden, but he was still staring after her.
A hand on his arm brought him out of it. He looked down to see an incredibly curvy blonde with a sweet girl-next-door kind of face and one hell of an impressive rack hiding under her t-shirt. “Excuse me, um…Caleb?”
Instantly, he smiled as bright as he could and put his arm around her shoulder. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”
She went bright red, but smiled up at him. “Um, hi. My name’s Mindy and I just wanted to say, I thought your last album was—“
He mentally tuned her out, though he kept smiling and nodding and interjecting appropriate-sounding noises. He was wondering exactly how hard this girl would be to get into bed when she slid her arm around his waist. He grinned, downgraded her from uncertainty to definite groupie slut in his head, and figured he could make the minimum effort with lines.
He steered her towards the pool house, where the bright lights of the garden didn’t quite reach. He fed her some mediocre bullshit about how pretty she looked while he traced a finger down her cheek, and she fell right out of her pants and into his.