mojo_rising (mojo_rising) wrote in rrinitiative, @ 2013-04-09 17:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | carmel, day fourteen, group scene, mojo, reece, reggie |
B.Y.O.
Characters: Mojo and open to all interested parties
Setting: The library, late afternoon onward
"'Nicole continued talking. She told me quite a few interesting stories, some of which I decided to use myself, either as stories or poems. I watched her breasts as she bent forward and poured drinks. It's like a movie, I thought, like a fucking movie.'," Mojo read easily from her seat at one of the library tables, leaned slightly back with a smile on her lips a cup of wine in one hand, and her book in the other.
After the jury had done its' business she'd headed right back to her room, pulling on her new sweater and pinning it carefully to hang tight and awkward, then winding her hair back to hide most of the length aside from a carefully-greased lock that worked as a faux-combover. She'd done her cheeks dark with makeup, dotting them to add an illusion of pockmarks, and after inspecting herself? Mojo knew she was ready. So she'd headed down here, claiming a table with her bottles of wine, one glass for herself to drink from, and a stack of both books and blank paper; her tools for the day. And then? She'd started reading, picking 'Women' first for the bitter humor lacing the book, and Mojo wasn't even sure if anyone else was here.
It didn't matter, she was doing this for herself as much as anyone else, and even if there was no one listening? She'd keep reading out loud, finish this glass of wine, pour another, and start writing. "'It seemed funny to me. It felt as if we were on camera. I liked it. It was better than the racetrack, it was better than the boxing matches. We kept drinking. Nicole opened a new bottle. She talked on. It was easy to listen to her. There was wisdom and some laughter in each of her rales. Nicole was impressing me more than she knew. That worried me, somewhat.'" she recited from the page, adding a bit of rasp and drawl to her own voice.
"'We walked out on the veranda with our drinks and watched the afternoon traffic. She was talking about Huxley and Lawrence in Italy. What shit. I told her that Knut Hamsun had been the world's greatest writer. She looked at me, astonished that I'd heard of him, then agreed. We kissed on the veranda, and I could smell the exhaust from the cars in the street below. Her body felt good against mine. I knew we weren't going to fuck right away, but I also knew that I would be coming back. Nicole knew it too.'" Mojo finished, marking the chapter's end before she set the book aside and sat forward to refill her glass.