tenebrae_nostro
Samantha wasn't made to walk alone. She could, and she would, but she found herself drawn toward crowds, seeking out vicarious conversations about nothing and missing her hundreds of false friends. She missed thin smiles spread over bad intentions and some days she even missed the guys with their rude roving hands and uninvited fingers, mouths, tenting jeans. It was on those days that she sought out some night time company, it didn't matter who, it really didn't matter at all, she didn't have anything left for them to take. But she didn't sleep. She was nobody's bed warmer and nobody's fool and if she had to crack a few faces to get that point across she sure as hell would.
That had been the case tonight, the hard chiseled man had been a real sweet talker until she had had enough, and that was when he learned the hard way that no meant no. He'd be half as pretty now, anyway. She dropped him on the tile floor of the hotel room, blood filling up the cracks in the tile as she straightened her skirt and ripped on her jacket, picking up her bag and shouldering it before slipping out the door. Nobody saw her come, nobody saw her go. She checked her face in a puddle, it had been unmarked by the scuffle, not that a tipsy bruiser with molasses barrels for arms posed much of a challenge these days. She half zipped her jacket and turned down the street, nudging her hair back into place.
http://community.livejournal.com/tenebrae_nostro/105477.html
That had been the case tonight, the hard chiseled man had been a real sweet talker until she had had enough, and that was when he learned the hard way that no meant no. He'd be half as pretty now, anyway. She dropped him on the tile floor of the hotel room, blood filling up the cracks in the tile as she straightened her skirt and ripped on her jacket, picking up her bag and shouldering it before slipping out the door. Nobody saw her come, nobody saw her go. She checked her face in a puddle, it had been unmarked by the scuffle, not that a tipsy bruiser with molasses barrels for arms posed much of a challenge these days. She half zipped her jacket and turned down the street, nudging her hair back into place.
http://community.livejournal.com/tenebrae_nostro/105477.html