Playing Pretend
1/1
“You like this kind of thing, do you?” I pointed around.
He shrugged. “I dunno.”
His accent was thick. Scottish, I thought. I’d always been fond of Scottish accents.
“I don’t care for it much, myself.” I took a drag of my cigarette and then offered it to him.
He took it. “I used to like it more. I stay away from it now.”
“Something happen?”
The scars said yes, but he said no.
“You’re real mysterious, you know that?”
He smirked. “Well shit, women like that, don’t they?”
Someone turned the music up. I reached over and took his hand, and pulled him into a smaller, quieter room.
“Women like mystery, in novels and in movies. In real life, no. Men who are mysterious always turn out to be bastards, in the end.”
“That’s so?”
I smirked and scooted right up next to him. His arm was behind me; his hand resting on my lower back.
“Always. I like to know about a man. Where he’s been, where he wants to go. No one likes being fucked over.”
He leaned forward, touching his cheek to mine. “Maybe just for tonight, we could pretend.”
His whispered sent chills up my spine.
“Pretend what?”
He put his hand on my chest and pushed me backwards. “You know everything about me. I know everything about you.”
His eyes were almost transparent when I looked into them. He pressed his soft lips to my neck and I wrapped my arms around his. His hand moved my skirt up, slowly.
I kissed him.
“Just for one night.”
He shrugged. “I dunno.”
His accent was thick. Scottish, I thought. I’d always been fond of Scottish accents.
“I don’t care for it much, myself.” I took a drag of my cigarette and then offered it to him.
He took it. “I used to like it more. I stay away from it now.”
“Something happen?”
The scars said yes, but he said no.
“You’re real mysterious, you know that?”
He smirked. “Well shit, women like that, don’t they?”
Someone turned the music up. I reached over and took his hand, and pulled him into a smaller, quieter room.
“Women like mystery, in novels and in movies. In real life, no. Men who are mysterious always turn out to be bastards, in the end.”
“That’s so?”
I smirked and scooted right up next to him. His arm was behind me; his hand resting on my lower back.
“Always. I like to know about a man. Where he’s been, where he wants to go. No one likes being fucked over.”
He leaned forward, touching his cheek to mine. “Maybe just for tonight, we could pretend.”
His whispered sent chills up my spine.
“Pretend what?”
He put his hand on my chest and pushed me backwards. “You know everything about me. I know everything about you.”
His eyes were almost transparent when I looked into them. He pressed his soft lips to my neck and I wrapped my arms around his. His hand moved my skirt up, slowly.
I kissed him.
“Just for one night.”