Re: Basement: Edge of the action
It wasn't much better, being wanted for something you knew wasn't wholly true. Like chicken soup trying to pass itself off for dumplings, and somehow managing it without anyone asking why the noodles weren't doughy. Soup du jour or not, it hardly matter if no one knew what they were spooning into their mouths.
She tried to make out the words on his skin, but there wasn't much use to it in this smokey darkness. The basement wasn't made for reading, and the suggestion to move somewhere with more lighting died before it reached her lips. They were fine where they were, and she didn't know if light would scare her off same as those booths had. In the crowded semidarkness, it was alright to play this game. She wasn't sure she'd feel the same way elsewhere. "They're pretty, whatever they are," she said of the words, willing to like them without digging deep, just like he didn't dig deep into what she was or wasn't.
"Just because someone's the boss, it doesn't mean people like listening," she told him, but it was distracted, something she obviously didn't feel any passion for. The remains of the cigarette were tucked between his lips, and she considered reapplying her lipstick and decided she best hold off until she was done. And it was time to quit her stalling. She wanted something to take home, and this learning seemed just the thing. She wasn't counting on catching herself a husband with it, but it wouldn't hurt to have the knowledge it tucked away in her girdle.
She waited for him to finish off those few drags of the cigarette, and then she pressed her lips to his. Too slow at first, because she was trying too hard not to go too fast. But then it evened out, and slow as could be it went from schoolyard kisses to something testing, something trying, until she managed it nearly right. Not too much spit, not too much tongue, and not too fast.