Lj Idol: Week 4, "What does Narcissism have to with me"
The sky hangs heavy with moisture and the faint scent of electricity. A huge bonfire has been built, flames lapping upwards in an ever steady rhythm. Women dance all around it, some looking for love; the topless ones looking for a good fuck. I hate these nights, cheap beer bringing out cheap morals. I come here to watch, to make sure nothing happens, but I don’t enjoy it.
I take another cigarette and place it between my dry lips. I reach for my lighter but can’t find it, search through my pockets and give up. I take a sip of water, and make my way to the roasting pit. As I fill my plate with 3 different meats, I think about heading home. Maybe after some corn bread.
I chew through the food slowly, savoring every bite. Watching the fire keep time with the music, I see a new face. Thick, well groomed eye brows almost hide the glint in her eyes, but I see it. Pretty and fresh, she looks just like trouble.
She can feel someone watching and catches my eyes. Without so much as a smile, she begins to sway her hips. Denim shorts 3 inches too small and cowboy boots make her legs appear twice as long as they really are. Side to side her hips move, eyes locked now. She turns away from me, no doubt wanting me to see just how tight her ass is, and her arms go up over head. In slow motion, she takes her top off and drops it to the ground.
The fire is casting a glow across her perfect back and I see an intricate tattoo making it’s way down her left side. As if she can tell I want a closer look, she slowly dances closer to where I’m sitting, never once turning around. The gray and black lines of ink curve around her, showcasing both the artistry of the work and the beautiful shape of her body. White and yellow Narcissus flowers bunched together, with letters I can’t quite make out.
She looks over her shoulder, smiling slightly, invitingly. Her head motions for me to join her, and I think about quickly. I stand up, wipe my greasy fingers on my pants, and make my way from where I was sitting. When I’m close enough to touch her, I lean into her and whisper, “Not this night.” I see the fire reflecting in her eyes for a brief moment, and she dances away from me as slowly as she had before.
I head through the crowds, and try to remember where I parked my bike. I see a blue lighter on the ground, and light myself a cigarette. She was beautiful, all right, but no. Not this night.
I take another cigarette and place it between my dry lips. I reach for my lighter but can’t find it, search through my pockets and give up. I take a sip of water, and make my way to the roasting pit. As I fill my plate with 3 different meats, I think about heading home. Maybe after some corn bread.
I chew through the food slowly, savoring every bite. Watching the fire keep time with the music, I see a new face. Thick, well groomed eye brows almost hide the glint in her eyes, but I see it. Pretty and fresh, she looks just like trouble.
She can feel someone watching and catches my eyes. Without so much as a smile, she begins to sway her hips. Denim shorts 3 inches too small and cowboy boots make her legs appear twice as long as they really are. Side to side her hips move, eyes locked now. She turns away from me, no doubt wanting me to see just how tight her ass is, and her arms go up over head. In slow motion, she takes her top off and drops it to the ground.
The fire is casting a glow across her perfect back and I see an intricate tattoo making it’s way down her left side. As if she can tell I want a closer look, she slowly dances closer to where I’m sitting, never once turning around. The gray and black lines of ink curve around her, showcasing both the artistry of the work and the beautiful shape of her body. White and yellow Narcissus flowers bunched together, with letters I can’t quite make out.
She looks over her shoulder, smiling slightly, invitingly. Her head motions for me to join her, and I think about quickly. I stand up, wipe my greasy fingers on my pants, and make my way from where I was sitting. When I’m close enough to touch her, I lean into her and whisper, “Not this night.” I see the fire reflecting in her eyes for a brief moment, and she dances away from me as slowly as she had before.
I head through the crowds, and try to remember where I parked my bike. I see a blue lighter on the ground, and light myself a cigarette. She was beautiful, all right, but no. Not this night.