He managed to get my number somehow. Called and I actualy answered, with my mouth filled with plum wine and cigarette smoke. The house was empty so I told him to come over, but the possibility of crossing paths with his friend, my father figure frightened him so I wrapped my body in a black silk dress and he picked me up with a silly smile painted on his face.
Hotel beds, oh how I've missed them. The white sheets makes everything feel so much better, the dimmed lights and the minibar. His nails pierced my skin, made little marks all over and my teeth left evidence on his shoulders of what the last couple of hours had been about. Afterwards, in a haze of red wine and cigarette smoke he looks at me with concern in his eyes How much weight have you lost since I last saw you?
I stormed off, with black silk wipping my legs as I ran through the hallway in heels that weren't ment to be worn when movement was planed. He had no right to talk to me like that. He had no right talking at all. Why don't men ever know when it's time to shut the fuck up..
I think there's a storm coming, there's something in the air.