Just something I sort of came up with...
Can't remember when this is from, just know that a while back I was planning some sort of story with a deeply emotionally abusive relationship, but the idea was that I'd make both partner's abuser and abused in various different ways. Basically, these few paragraphs were as far as I ever got. If anyone's deeply interested in reading more, let me know and I'll consider continuing it, but if not it shall probably languish on.
Mutual
"Look at the legs on that one..." Robin exclaimed unsubtley as a short leather skirt and long, slender legs, presumably with the rest of a girl attached passed us by. I shook my head at him and tipped in another mouthful of sickly alcohol, wondering how he could down the stuff so happily. We had been at this for nearly an hour now: knocking back a careful selection of drinks (comprised of everything we had never tried in the years we had been coming here) and eyeing up the local "talent". Oh how I hate that phrase. Pretend I said something less cringe-worthy, would you? Quite why we decided on this as the way to spend our evening I don't recall, nor whose the suggestion had been, but we had both agreed it might be interesting to do something a little different to normal, which this certainly was.
I had been listening, with increasing frequency, to the talk around the room about 'those gits at the bar' and it was really getting old. "And that top! You can see right through to-" I interrupted before some right-thinking young girl took it into her head to castrate him - as that remark would have deserved.
"Mr Jones, you have neither tact nor taste. I am quite ashamed of you." I was done with the evening, sick of his crude comments on each passable girl who walked in. I dropped my glass down on the bar and got up, slinging my jacket on and setting off through the Crown's sparse tables.
He caught up with me on the pavement outside, grabbing my jacket, tugging me to a halt with a handful of leather. I didn't resist as he wrapped his arm around my neck and pulling me round to kiss me. His breath tasted of gin and something like coconut-flavoured sugar. "I guess that's the end of that experiment, then." He said face licked into an apologetic grin.
"You make a lousy hetero." I told him simply, turning away and pretending to ignore him for a few steps down the road, peering about for a taxi. Dejection didn't hold him long, he soon caught up, grabbing my hand.
"Sorry, lover." And I forgave him. It was the naively sorrowful glow of those big blue eyes under the street lamps.
Please comment.
Mutual
"Look at the legs on that one..." Robin exclaimed unsubtley as a short leather skirt and long, slender legs, presumably with the rest of a girl attached passed us by. I shook my head at him and tipped in another mouthful of sickly alcohol, wondering how he could down the stuff so happily. We had been at this for nearly an hour now: knocking back a careful selection of drinks (comprised of everything we had never tried in the years we had been coming here) and eyeing up the local "talent". Oh how I hate that phrase. Pretend I said something less cringe-worthy, would you? Quite why we decided on this as the way to spend our evening I don't recall, nor whose the suggestion had been, but we had both agreed it might be interesting to do something a little different to normal, which this certainly was.
I had been listening, with increasing frequency, to the talk around the room about 'those gits at the bar' and it was really getting old. "And that top! You can see right through to-" I interrupted before some right-thinking young girl took it into her head to castrate him - as that remark would have deserved.
"Mr Jones, you have neither tact nor taste. I am quite ashamed of you." I was done with the evening, sick of his crude comments on each passable girl who walked in. I dropped my glass down on the bar and got up, slinging my jacket on and setting off through the Crown's sparse tables.
He caught up with me on the pavement outside, grabbing my jacket, tugging me to a halt with a handful of leather. I didn't resist as he wrapped his arm around my neck and pulling me round to kiss me. His breath tasted of gin and something like coconut-flavoured sugar. "I guess that's the end of that experiment, then." He said face licked into an apologetic grin.
"You make a lousy hetero." I told him simply, turning away and pretending to ignore him for a few steps down the road, peering about for a taxi. Dejection didn't hold him long, he soon caught up, grabbing my hand.
"Sorry, lover." And I forgave him. It was the naively sorrowful glow of those big blue eyes under the street lamps.
Please comment.