Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ eXXXcapades: Life and Times of Hitomi Kanzaki ❯ The Monster (Part 1): Sheep's Clothing ( Chapter 4 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: CandyLipsWithPoisonKiss 
Wherein Hitomi grasps the bars of her cage to see how far they will bend.
Anime/Manga: Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Fantasy / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.01.2008 | Updated On: 04.01.2008 | Pages: 13 | Words: 9.9K | Visits: 623 | Status: Work In Progress
Wherein Hitomi grasps the bars of her cage to see how far they will bend.
Anime/Manga: Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Fantasy / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.01.2008 | Updated On: 04.01.2008 | Pages: 13 | Words: 9.9K | Visits: 623 | Status: Work In Progress
Am I right?!
As I have explained already, a computer crash destroyed all of my work a while back except for what I had already uploaded, causing me to have to rewrite EVERYTHING! *pulls out hair* But I have reconstructed for the most part the very beginning of the third chapter of this little fic. This was about 30 pages when I typed it into Word, so you can imagine how freaking long the entire thing was! And that’s cause I wasn’t even totally done when it got erased!
Before I babble on too much, I want to thank you for the support and encouragement I got. Thank you so much! I really lifted my spirit during my time of darkness.
There are two more things I want to address before I let you all get on with the chapter. #1 - I have gotten complaints from a certain person (who I will not name because I am not like that) about this fic not being VH right away. I personally L-O-V-E Van and Hitomi pairings, but I am trying to write a fic that is a little bit different than some of the regular plot lines that are out there. Yes, I know I am taking a risk of losing some readers by holding out on the VH for now, but what’s life without a few risks? In response to this, please keep an open mind. Even though this person said this in a much less nice way, I would still hate to lose them as a reader.
#2 - I want to thank those who review because it really does help me to know what I’m doing good on and what needs improvement. Even though it may take a little time to do, even the shortest of reviews are helpful.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Escaflowne! *sadness*
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Hitomi rested her chin in the palm of her propped-up hand as she stared out the frosty fifth-floor window to the parking lot outside. The pen in her other hand hadn’t scribbled more than a few words before she zoned out, lost in another place and time.
Dear Allen,
The dorm life is okay so far. My roommate is never here, so I pretty much have my little 20x12 room to myself. I live in 503, which is supposed to be haunted or something. I don’t think any ghost would want to live in a place this shabby. My classes are okay, too, except for that fact that they’re all so big that…
She had started dozens of letters to her friend back home, but none of them ever made it into an envelope. Every time she thought back to Allen and what she had left behind, she always seemed to drift back to him.
Hitomi let out a sigh as she watched the cars from the dorm parking lot turn onto the main road. The traffic was bumper to bumper, and the long trail of red break lights reminded her of the yards and yards of Christmas lights that she used to help her dad put on the tree during the holidays.
Some of the people in those cars were heading home for the Thanksgiving holiday: two weeks of family, catching up old friends, relaxation, and lots of home cooked food. Others were going out to the night clubs and cafes that surrounded the campus. Hitomi wondered if they were anything like the one at which Yoko first picked up Dilandau.
She immediately felt disgusted at the thought of her mother and turned back to her letter, trying to shake Yoko’s face from her mind’s eye.
“Hey, bitch. I’m leavin’.”
Hitomi turned her head to the voice accompanied by the swinging open of the door. Her roommate threw her purse on her stripped bed.
“Hi, Chelsea.”
Chelsea was a 6’0” Russian girl, the sort who wore blue leopard print jeans in the smallest size possible and white t-shirts without a bra, which Hitomi really had no right to criticize her about all things considered. She had dyed her hair bright pink and had a bull ring through her nose. She dragged all of her pre-packed luggage back to the door and yelled out into the hallway, “Drew! Get jur ass here! I’m park in handicapped!”
Hitomi pretended to be looking at the mural of band posters and snapshots that papered Chelsea’s side of the room. Her eyes skimmed over the familiar photos of goth kids giving the finger and mohawked girls with flying-v guitars before settling on Chelsea’s silver-spiked purse. What she saw inside made her eyes light up.
“Need any help, Chels?” she offered, trying to look nonchalant.
“Arrg! Yes, please, Hillary. Can ju put my bags in ze hallway so I ken get Drew? He’s such lazy ass!”
Chelsea stomped out of the room, muttering something in her native language under her breath. Hitomi was still slightly annoyed by the fact that her roomie hadn’t learned her name despite having lived together for almost six months, but she considered what she was about to do a way of evening things out. She slipped the pack of cigarettes out of Chelsea’s ratty black bag and flipped open the top. She slid out one of the non-tobacco cigarettes out and quickly stashed it in one of her own drawers before putting the pack in it’s rightful place.
Hitomi had already put all thirty of Chelsea’s luggage bags outside when the frantic girl finally returned with her boyfriend to help her schlep everything to her car. “Bye, Helen, have a guud Tanksgivin’.”
“You, too, Ch--” The door slammed shut.
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An hour later, Hitomi had gotten around to finishing off the last of her stolen joint. While left hand held the little white cig to her lips, the other wrote furiously in a small journal.
Chelsea left today. Thank God! She and Drew are going to on a two-week cruise for the holiday. Don’t ask me how people who file for food stamps got the money for a boat ride to Panama.
I’m staying here, of course. I thought I had made friends with a girl in my Algebra class, but she didn’t invite me home for Thanksgiving even after I made it a point to mention that I was staying. What a bitch. I hate it when people make me feel like I’m desperately vying for their friendship, like they’re some kind of God. I’d rather be alone.
Actually, that’s a huge lie. When I left mom, I thought that would be it, you know? I’d come out here and have my own life and my own friends, and they would be my family. How can I live here with 50,000 other people and feel completely invisible?
Hitomi let her pen fall out of her grasp, watching it roll off the journal and onto the desk as she took another hit. She held in her breath and stared up at the water stains on the ceiling. They were all different shades of yellow: eggshell, custard, sunflower, reminding her of the rings of a felled tree.
Her eyes prickled with the sting of tears, an old feeling that was more familiar to her than anything else. She tried to ignore the invisible hand tugging at her heart and blew the smoke out in a billowy white stream and leaned forward again.
I guess the fact that I steal Chelsea’s weed isn’t helping us get closer. But, like I said, it’s not like she’s breaking out the fine china for me. Her real name isn’t even “Chelsea.” It’s Merit or Merle or something. She told me that once when she was trippin’ balls (her words, not mine). Also that she’s only with Drew because he’s got the hook up and a gigantic penis. She walked in one him once trying to put the moves on me, and when I apologized, she was just all “So? He’s a guy. Dat’s what he does.” Then I complained about it and she said, “Who do I look like? Jur mom? Ju’re a big girl. If ju can’t take care jurself, go behk to mommy.” Bitch.
Hitomi was interrupted by a loud bang on her door. Wary at first, she waited, staring at the ugly brown door.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
“Hey, it’s Bethany. Your resident assistant.”
Hitomi tossed the little bit of her joint into her top drawer and sprayed some aerosol air freshener.
“Tom-Tom? I know you’re in there. You’re always here.” Bethany laughed, her high-pitched voice shifting into something that sounded like a cross between a seal and a car horn.
Hitomi rolled her eyes. When the fuck did I ever imply that it was okay for her to call me that? She glanced in the mirror quickly to make sure her appearance was normal and crossed the room to opened the door. Standing before her was a short, blonde-haired girl with a big plastic grin and an envelope with the dorm letterhead on top left-hand corner.
“Hi,” Bethany said in her squeaky voice, waiting for the other to invite her.
Hitomi blocked her entrance, trying not to stare and Bethany’s rows and rows of perfectly white teeth. They reminded her of a shark she had once seen in an aquarium tank. “Yes?”
“Umm…I have a letter here from the housing director…” she said as she tried to look past Hitomi, craning her short neck as far as it would go.
The lock to room 503 had been broken at the beginning of the semester by a very drunk Drew, so the new lock was the only one that Bethany’s master key couldn’t open. For some deranged reason, not being able to bust in on Hitomi and Chelsea at her leisure drove her crazy.
Hitomi savored her squirming. “Yeah…What does it say?”
“Oh, here.” The busybody handed over the letter, not realizing how obvious she was being.
Hitomi felt anger rise in her gut. The envelope was opened cleanly, looking as though it has never been sealed. It had more than likely been held over one of the steam pipes in the basement. She took it from Bethany and started reading.
Dear Resident,
Due to the low number of occupants staying over the holiday--
“They want everyone to move to Chastity Hall.”
Hitomi sighed internally. Bethany looked so proud, like she had read Hitomi’s mind and not just a memo, which happened to be a federal offence.
“You have to be over there by Sunday.”
“Okay. Well, thanks, B. I’ll get all my--”
“If you need anything, I could help you pack.”
Hitomi stared, mouth agape, astonished at the gall and creepiness of the girl at the door. Most of all she was disgusted. Bethany stood with her greasy hair framing her face, her five million teeth sparkling in a gesture as genuine as a porcelain doll’s smile.
“Uh…no.” Hitomi closed the door as quickly as possible.
“Oh, Tom-Tom, if you just--”
She turned the deadbolt, and went back to her desk. She ignored the noise coming from Bethany and went back to reading the letter.
Dear Resident,
Due to the low number of occupants staying over the holiday, we are requiring that all students choosing to remain on campus move temporarily to Chastity Hall. We feel that this will allow our staff to operate more efficiently as well as eliminate the need for security to be spread thin.
Because the fees for your semester here at Gatesman Hall cannot be transferred, there will be a nonrefundable $300 charge for your two week stay at Chastity Hall in order to cover the costs generated by catering to more residents. This fee can be paid up until the end of this semester. Failing to do so will by this time will result is you being prevented from signing up for any further classes.
We hope that you--
“Jesus Christ! They want more money? Damn it,” Hitomi said to herself.
Man…I need to get out of here.
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It was bitter and drizzling outside the MoonBean Café and Lounge, but Hitomi would have preferred the ice-slicked sidewalks to the cold stares she was getting from a table of bitchy co-eds across the room. They laughed and sneered at her while they tossed back cosmopolitans and Long Island ice teas, and one Brunette in particular glanced back every now and again to enjoy Hitomi’s misery.
About an hour before all this, Hitomi had been happily primping and grooming for her outing: teasing and styling her hair, glossing lips and shadowing eye lids, and squeezing into clothes that not even Yoko would try to fork-lift her shameless ass into.
The pain of plucking and pulling had done it’s job. Hitomi stood in front of the cracked full-length mirror Chelsea had left behind, twisting and turning proudly. She had finally gotten the courage to put in a pair of dark-wash low-rise jeans that hugged her hips like a second skin. The gold sequins of her tank top shimmered faintly in the dull light of her dorm room, stopping about an inch above her navel. Hitomi felt a little shy about showing off her stomach, but she just felt so damn good about coming out of her shell a bit. Her hair had grown out, lightly brushing her shoulders. Her green eyes still sparkled brightly amidst all of the flair on her body.
As she slinked out the door, she slipped on her coat and a pair of bright red pumps she had bought on a whim while shopping alone at Midwick, a part of the city that was sort of like a flea market where anyone could buy anything at any time.
Immediately after stepping through the tinted doors of MoonBean, she felt part of a sexy velvet world. A soft jazz band played on the stage at the back, framed by purple curtains fringed with silver. All of the tables were small and dark finished with low candles burning at their centers. Along the walls were black leather couches and coffee tables littered with art magazines. The bar curved down the length of the left wall, champagne glasses hanging from above. Everywhere, people were in twos and threes and fours, laughing, conversation, arguing, or listening and nodding to the music.
Hitomi removed her coat and headed for the bar, not wanting to sit at a table alone. She ordered a appletini and handed her ID to the bartender, who looked back at forth from her to the rectangle of plastic a few times. Hitomi held her breath until he decided that it was real and pulled out a martini glass.
“Thank you,” she said when he slid it in front of her on a napkin, relief spreading through her.
As Hitomi sipped at her drink, she flipped the fake ID between her fingers. Dilandau had bought it for her over a year ago. She had been sketching him laying on her bed after they had made love.
“Shit, I almost forgot,” he said, reaching over the to his pants on the floor.
“Stay still. How and I supposed to finish this if you keep moving?”
“You know,” he sat up, card in hand, “you’re lucky that your smart mouth is so fuckin’ beautiful.”
Hitomi couldn’t help but blush a little at his compliment, crude as it was. She put down her sketch pad as he crawled across the bed to her.
“Here.”
“What’s this?”
“A dog turd.”
“Ha ha. You’re a comedic genius.”
“What the fuck’s it look like? It’s an ID.”
“A fake ID?”
“No.”
“Well, I don’t remember going to the DMV with you.”
“Of course you don’t. You were blazed.”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I made it.”
“So it’s fake?”
“Duh it’s fake. Sorr-y. I’ll think twice next time I want to do you a favor.”
“No, no, no, thank you. I just…what’s it for?”
“For whenever you want to go out with friends or something.”
“I don’t have any friends.”
“Or whenever you go out with me.”
“Where would we go that I would need a fake ID?”
“You ask too many questions.”
“Well--”
“C hrist! Do you want the damn thing or not?”
“Yeah, I do, but…”
“But?”
220;That’s not my birthday.”
Silence.
“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”
“Come on, baby. Every day is your birthday when you’re with me.”
“Oh, pl-ease!”
“Come here, I got something else for you.”
“What, a misspelled tattoo of my name?”
“Why don’t you come over here and see?”
“Oooh…I see. There’s no age requirement to get into Club Dilandau.”
“Hey, are you saying I’m easy?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Abso-fuckin’-luetly.”
“That doesn’t mean I am.”
“Really? Not even it I do…this?”
“Well…maybe a little.”
“…and this?”
“Mmm…”
Hitomi was happily lost in her memory when she noticed the bartender staring at her. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed and a little uneasy. He continued to look in her direction, but she pretended to be studying the assortment of liquor bottles behind the bar.
“Long Island iced tea, please.”
Hitomi hadn’t noticed the guy who had sat down beside her. She began to tear bits of paper off of her napkin, starting to regret her outing.
Jesus Christ! It’s like every five minutes, I think of him. Why can’t I get him out of my head? Please let me get him out of my head…
The stranger eyed her up and down, a glint of recognition in his eye.
“Hey, you’re in my history class, right?”
Hitomi looked up and immediately felt her cheeks flush. It was Jayde McSomethingorother. His last name wasn’t important. What was important was the fact that he was the person who had given Hitomi the most attention of anyone since she’d left home.
“Yeah. Uh, yes. Yes,” she stammered.
“Yeah, you sit next to me.” He way his nose wrinkled when he smiled made Hitomi melt a little inside.
“Yes.” She flashed back to the last class period they shared together.
Hitomi was desperately trying to stay awake when she felt a nudge on her shoulder.
Jayde had come in late and was looking at her as he scrambled to pull a notebook from his backpack. He whispered something, but it was too low for Hitomi to hear.
“What?” she whispered back, leaning closer.
Jayde put his spiral on the desk and moved close to Hitomi, his hand resting on her shoulder. As he opened his mouth, his breath warmed her earlobe. She breathed in his peppermint-scented breath mint. Her stomach did a flip-flop.
“Are we on chapter three or four?”
She was half-giddy when she answered. “Yes.”
“Huh?” He pulled away, a question mark plastered on his face.
Hitomi realized her mistake. “Oh, ha. Um…three.”
A dazzling smile returned to his lips. “Thanks.”
Hitomi didn’t hear anything the professor said for the rest of the class.
“‘Yes?’ Is that all you know how to say, or are you just really really positive?”
Hitomi laughed a little louder than she intended to, but she couldn’t help herself. Jayde was just so damn gorgeous. He had high cheek bones, pouty lips, olive skin, dark eyes, everything the Greeks would have put on a sculpture. On top of all that, he was (as far as she was concerned) the nicest person in a hundred-mile radius.
“I…Well, what’s wrong with looking on the bright side of things?” Hitomi did her best to seem relaxed, like beautiful guys approached her all the time.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.”
“Long Island,” the bartender said as he interrupted their moment.
Hitomi thought she saw him roll his eyes at Jayde, but the moment passed so quickly she wasn’t sure it had happened at all.
“Thanks,” Jayde said politely, but the barkeep had turned his back by then.
“What’s up with him?” Hitomi felt more than a little annoyed by his intrusion.
“Eh, who cares? What I really want to know why a pretty girl like you is sitting all alone at the bar on a Friday night when she should be on the arm of any guy she wants.” He put his lips to the rim of his glass.
Hitomi felt her knees get weak. Thank God I’m sitting down…
“Well, I don’t know that many people, and most of the ones I do know are on their way home, so…” She took a sip of her martini, partly because her mouth had gone dry, partly because she was afraid to say something stupid.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, his charcoal eyes fixed on her.
Hitomi nearly gagged on her drink. “Excuse me?” She tried unsuccessfully to hide the surprise in her voice. She tucked her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she hadn’t been able to indulge when her hair was pixie-short.
That earned her another bright smile. “I just meant that it’s hard for me to believe that someone like you would be spending the holiday alone. If you were my friend, I’d have invited you home in a second.”
Hitomi’s heart jumped into her throat. She was confused. She felt like she was in pre-Dilandau high school again, awkward and gawky, not quite sure how to sit or what to do with her hands. She must have been visibly flustered because Jayde put his hand on her knee, rubbing reassuringly.
“Hey, are you okay? Do you want me to get you some--”
“Baaaaaby!”
Out of no where a buxom brunette bounded onto Jayde’s arm. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I’m missed you soooo so much! Did you--”
Hitomi would have had to be traveling at the speed of sound to hear whatever it was she said next. Even if the girl hadn’t been talking at a pace too fast for a jet plane, Hitomi figured it wouldn’t matter anyway. The girl’s outfit was louder than any noise she could make.
It was some kind of pink leather tube top that barely kept her boobs from popping out. Her skirt was a ripped white denim mini, and she wore gold stiletto shoes. Under the light from the bar, Hitomi could see that her skin was somewhat orange, a product of too much spray tanning. To top it all off, when Brunette did a twirl for the disgustingly pleased Jayde, Hitomi got a glimpse of a tribal-style lower back tattoo and a barbed wire wrap-around tattoo on her left arm.
Oh…my…God. This guy is dating Jerry Springer Barbie.
“You look beautiful, baby,” Hitomi heard him say through her fog of disbelief. The paradox his statement created snapped her back to reality.
“It was nice talking to you…uh…?” He looked at her expectantly as he stared moving away with Brunette wrapped around his waist.
“Hitomi,” she managed to spit out, trying to keep the shock off her face.
“Yeah, that. See you in class.”
As she watched her Dream Guy walk away with someone who could only be an off-duty stripper, Hitomi couldn’t help but feel like a semi truck full of rotting garbage had just ploughed over her at a thousand miles per hour. When Brunette tuned back around and stuck her tongue out at Hitomi while giving her the finger, the semi backed up and rolled over Hitomi a few more times.
Hitomi tossed back the rest of her appletini. She almost wished she were back home with Yoko.
Almost.
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Hitomi sat at the bar in a position similar to the one she often took up at her writing desk, except that she was staring into the mirrored glass behind the bar rather than out a window. She was tired of being heckled and glared at, but she was hesitant to go out and try to find another club where the bartender would accept her ID.
Going back to the dorm wasn’t a particularly desirable option either, seeing as how Bethany was practically humping to door knob to Hitomi’s room trying to get in.
On the other hand, staying wasn’t doing her much good. She was alone and about to start her third appletini, which meant she had had too much to drink and too much time to think.
What was I thinking? Why would a guy like that go for me? Stupid, stupid, stupid! God Almighty, why am even looking for a guy? I’m so fucking lonely, but every time I even think about finding someone, I feel guilty. Dilandau’s probably got a new girl by now. No, I don’t even want to think that way. And I know he doesn’t have a new girl. He loves me too much.
Hitomi swirled the liquid in the glass, a few drops spilled over onto the counter.
Why can’t I stop thinking about him? I wish I could rip his memory out of my brain.
She took a mouthful of her drink, swished it around in her mouth, and swallowed.
No, I don’t. What I want more than anything is for him to be here with me right now. I wouldn’t need anything else in the world if I had him.
She felt her eyes get misty, that familiar sting.
I need to stop thinking that. He’s never coming back, no matter how much I wish for him.
The tears spilled over her lower eye lids onto her cheeks. Embarrassed, she wiped them away as quickly as she could, trying not to draw attention to herself.
Jesus, I’m so pathetic. Why am I crying over that jerk? He did more damage than he did good. He’s the reason I’m so fucked up right now.
Her face grew hot; she was angry at the images her mind conjured up.
This is his fault.
Hitomi had had enough. She dug through her purse and fished out money to pay for her last drink. When she looked up for the bartender, she found him gone. In his place was a thin man with dark blue hair. She waved him over.
“No worries, miss,” he said when she tried to hand him the money. “Compliments of the gentleman at the end of the bar.”
Hitomi turned to her left, startled at this unexpected news. The only other person sitting was the first bartender. Her lifted his pony-necked beer and nodded to her before taking a swig.
Hitomi nodded back, shoved her money into her bag, and headed toward the door. Her somewhat abrupt exit earned oh’s and ah’s and a few laughs from Brunette’s table, but she didn’t hear them. She was done with people.
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“Ta xi!” she cried for the fourth time. The yellow monster whizzed by her, spraying some of the cold, dirty street water on her feet. “No,” she whined, she shoulders slumping.
This is some kind of conspiracy to get me to kill myself, she thought dejectedly. Yoko hired Jayde, that brunette, and the creepy bartender to push me within a inch of my sanity. Like I would ever give her the satisfaction.
“Taxi!” she yelled again, waving her arms frantically. “TAXI!”
It didn’t even slow down for the giant speed bump in the middle of the road. Hitomi began to get more and more anxious. Not because she had been standing outside alone for almost half an hour, but because the longer it took for her to get a cab, the more likely it was that Jayde and his crew would come outside and see her in her wretched state.
She felt like crying again.
Why did I ever think I could do this? Why did I ever think Yoko was wrong about me?
She raised her tired arm as a white cab came into view. She was just about to open her mouth when…
“Taxi!”
Hitomi nearly jumped out of her skin. She whipped her head around to see where the voice had come from.
Standing behind her was Creepy Bartender, the guy who had glared at Jayde and bought her a drink.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he said. His voice was surprisingly soft and kind. “You need to say it like you’re angry at them, or else they won’t stop.”
“Oh,” was all she could muster. She was occupied with studying his face.
Up close, he didn’t really seem like the image of bartender’s Hitomi had in her mind. He had glasses, and his brown hair was tied back into a pony tail, something she hadn’t even noticed inside. He didn’t seem to be very muscular, though he was obviously in good shape. What struck Hitomi most was that he seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He just seemed to be too mature and intelligent and artsy looking to be…well, a bartender.
“Would you like to share?” His voice was rich, but not deep. It was low, but not monotone.
“Hmm?” Hitomi was busy tracing his lips with her eyes. They were pale and full, and for some reason looked extremely inviting.
“Share. We can drop you off.” The cab had stopped and he was already holding the door open. “And then I’ll take the cab back to my place.”
Hitomi hesitated. Was she really about to get into a taxi in the middle of the night with a stranger she knew nothing about?
The bartender waited for her to answer, then motioned to the seat when she stayed silent.
Well, I don’t think anything could make the night worse at this point. Besides, I’ll be safe as long as I’m in the cab.
She let him help her into the car.
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“ ;Where to?” the cabbie asked.
“Ivy and University, please,” Hitomi said, settling into the uncomfortable upholstery.
“Then Cranberry and Black,” Bartender said.
“Hey, we live pretty close to each other,” Hitomi said.
“Yeah,” Bartender Guy said. “The evening commute is still a pain, though.”
They road in silence for the few minutes after, and Hitomi watched the buildings and streetlights melt together in a blur of grays and whites. She realized that her head was still slightly foggy from the alcohol.
“So, you’re a student?”
“Mm-hum. Freshman,” she said, turning to look at him.
He was gazing out his window, a smile creeping onto his lips.
“What?” Hitomi asked.
“I knew that ID was fake,” he turned to her, his eyes full of playful laughter. “It’s good, I’ll give you that much. Whoever did it knows his stuff.”
Hitomi blushed, not realizing she had given herself away. “Yeah. Then why did you still serve me?”
He breathed in deeply and sighed. “A lot of kids with fake IDs complain to the manager if I turned them away because they know he’ll let them drink. He doesn’t care. As long as you have money and a card that says you’re of age, then whatever happens to you at the end of the night is your fault.”
Hitomi tensed a little, hoping his words were warning and not some sort of foreshadowing. She crossed her legs and tucked her hair behind her ear.
He noticed her anxiety right away. “Hey, kid. I’m not…you know…some kind of pervert, or anything. We’re just sharing a cab.”
He was relaxed, and he made her feel calm. She took the opportunity to study him more closely. Peeking out from underneath the sleeve of his shirt was a splash of red and blue, the edged of a tattoo. He smelled like cloves and tobacco, from being at MoonBean or from his own cigarettes, she couldn‘t tell. The longer she was with Bartender Guy, the more she was intrigued.
“Yeah, I know,” Hitomi smiled, glad that something wasn’t going disastrously.
“I’m Dryden, by the way,” he held out his hand.
“Hitomi,” she grasped it. It was firm, yet gentle and soft.
“Hitomi,” he repeated, as though he were savoring an exotic sweet. “That’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you,” she found herself smiling wider. “I like you’re name, too. I’ve never heard it before.”
He chuckled, deep and soft. “My mother thought it meant ‘from God’ in Spanish.”
“Does it?”
“No. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, no!” Hitomi gasped, not sure it she should be upset for him or laugh.
“No, it’s fine. My mother was on acid for most of my childhood, so I’m glad just to be here,” he said with a chuckle. His apparently broken childhood was not an issue too private to share with a strange girl.
Hitomi didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t been expecting such a personal disclosure. “Well, it’s still a beautiful name,” she said, trying not to seem rude.
“Thank you. What about you, Hitomi. How did you get your name?”
Hitomi hesitated for a moment. Oh, what the heck. I’m probably not ever going see him again anyway. Might as well…
“Um, when my mom was pregnant, she thought my dad was cheating on her, so she named me after the woman she thought he was fooling around with.”
Dryden was silent for a moment. “Oh, God. That’s awful,” he said, genuine concern in his voice as though he were asking Are you okay now?
“It doesn’t bother me. I didn’t actually find out until they got divorced, but that’s a whole other story.”
“Umm…Jesus, I’m sorry. That was incredibly stupid of me to ask,” he rubbed the back of his head.
“No, don’t be. You didn’t know. I shouldn’t have--”
“No, really, that was…I mean…I didn’t…”
“Here we are. Ivy and University,” the cabbie said.
“Listen,” Dryden started, “I can’t just leave you like this. I feel like a total jerk.” His eyes were large and apologetic.
Hitomi felt bad for him. He was only trying to be nice, and he seemed to have completely made an ass out of himself in his own mind.
“At least let me buy you something to eat. If you’re not too tired, that is. I don’t want to make you stay out.”
“I…” Another surprise for Hitomi. They hadn’t known each other for more than fifteen minutes, and Dryden was treating her with more affection than anyone she knew. She tried to pretend it took at least a few seconds to make up her mind. “Sure. I’d love to. Why not?”
“Excellent,” he said, breaking out into a grin. “Driver, take us to Henrietta’s on Cranberry.”
“You got it. Henrietta’s on Cranberry, it is.”
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------
̶ 0;You’re kidding. You’ve got to be,” Hitomi said, her face somewhere between dead seriousness and uncontrollable laughter.
“Nope, it’s true,” Dryden replied with a smirk.
Hitomi had decided half an hour earlier that she loved his smile. It was a little mischievous and a little sweet.
“No,” Hitomi shook her head. “There’s no way it’s that big.”
“Would you like to check?” Dryden challenged, motioning under the table.
“Yeah, I would,” Hitomi said defiantly, wanting to see hard proof of his claim.
Dryden broke out into a wide smile. “Happy to oblige, darlin’.”
Hitomi leaned over the table as he reached into his pants. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, her eyes growing as big as saucers. “That’s a big as my fist!”
“Yup,” Dryden said proudly before tossing the rolled up wad of cash nonchalantly onto the table. “But you might want to keep it down. You’re giving the folks at table six a play by play.”
Hitomi looked around feeling a little sheepish. There were several other booths and table in the small Southern-comfort-food diner, but no one seemed to have looked up from their menus, newspapers, or platters. It wasn’t hard to see why, though. The atmosphere was so relaxed and casual --blue checkered table clothes, paper napkins, posters of high school football teams and marching band members and cheerleaders lining the wall, soft country music in the background-- that she doubted anything short of a building fire would get people to move from their over-stuffed seat cushions.
Hitomi turned to the object in her hands, removing the rubber band and thumbing through the green bills: ones, fives, tens, twenties. Dryden had more money from his tip jar than she had held in a very long time.
“And this is all from one night?”
He nodded, waving the waitress over for a refill.
“Wow,” Hitomi sighed, “I’m in the wrong business.” She wrapped the rubber band back around the money.
Dryden cocked an eyebrow and he accepted the roll of cash she handed over. “And what business would that be, exactly?”
“The business of be-dirt-poor-until-I-get-a-college-degree.” She leaned back into the plastic booth and picked at the remains of her Country Kitchen He-Man Dinner Special. The chicken fried steak was mostly gone, as were the mashed potatoes, but a few peas were still swimming around in the left over gravy.
“Dirt poor? I wouldn’t call being able to afford a college education being poor. Besides, didn’t you say your mom worked for an ad agency or something?” He had his elbows on the table, all attention focused on her.
Hitomi secretly admitted to herself how nice it felt to have someone paying attention to her. Someone who actually bothered to learn her name and at least pretend to be interested in her life. She wondered how much longer she could keep him hooked.
“She does, but we don’t speak anymore. Big fall out.”
“Ah,” Dryden said, not in the slightest put off. “I know a little something about fall outs, too. What about your dad? Isn’t he running around the Amazon filming topless indigenous women, or something like that?”
“No,” Hitomi giggled. She was impressed. He had the chance to change the topic to himself, but he had steered right back around to her. “He sends me money, but I don’t have the heart to tell him how much tuition actually is. I know that he and his family would be living in a dirt-floored shanty so I could keep going to school.”
“Wow, that’s great that he loves you so much,” Dryden said, his eyes going soft.
“Yeah,” Hitomi said, grateful that his words were true. Even if her ties with Yoko were pretty much severed, Dad would still be there for her whenever she needed someone. Unfortunately, Hitomi knew that his solution would be for her to move with him to Brazil, something she wasn’t ready to do. “What about you, Dryden? Got any family?”
“Yeah, a dad,” he said, looking down for a second before focusing his eyes on the world outside the window. The street was empty aside from the occasional police car or taxi. “I was an only child, so you can imagine was a disappointment I am to him.”
“You’re not a disappointment,” Hitomi said, furrowing her brow.
He scoffed. “You don’t know my old man.” He let out a long breath and looked back at her. “Let me put it this way: that roll I just showed you, which usually adds up anywhere from six hundred to a fifteen hundred every weekend, is chump change to him.”
“Jesus Christ,” Hitomi whispered. Months of living only on her meal plan and spare change made Dryden’s wages seem like an insurmountable amount of money. That someone could see that money as laughable as it was insane to her. “What does he do?”
Dryden took a sip of his coffee, which had finally cooled down somewhat. “Construction.”
Hitomi didn’t buy it. There was something unsure in his answer, a waver in his glance or his voice, but she was having too good a time to ruin it by meddling into something that wasn’t her business anyway. She shrugged it off.
“So, Miss Hitomi, ready to call it a night?” he asked, glancing at her nearly clean plate.
“Yup,” she said with a satisfied grin. “I’m about ready to go.”
She stood out by the curb trying to hail a taxi while Dryden paid the check.
“Taxi!” she yelled, watching a green and yellow cab fly past her. Her cheeks were flushed pink with frustration. If I end up standing out here like a fool again, I’m going to hurt someone.
A white cab rounded around the corner, speeding along the slick road. Hitomi breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with cold night air.
“TAXIIIIII!”
The car came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road before reversing and pulling up in front of her.
“That’s more like it,” a voice said from behind.
Hitomi looked over her shoulder to see Dryden and a gigantic smirk on his face.
“How long have you been standing there?” she asked.
“Long enough to be impressed,” he said as he walked past her and held open the door.
“Thank you.” She slid in and told the cabbie Ivy and University.
On the ride home, Hitomi and Dryden talked like two old friends. When the taxi rolled to a stop in front of Gatesman Hall, they turned to each other.
“I had a great time,” they said in unison.
They both chuckled. Hitomi loved the sound of Dryden’s deep, soft laugh. She imagined that if chocolate had a sound, rich and smooth and sweet, it would be his laugh.
“Hitomi, if you ever need anything,” he reached into his coat pocket, “you just give me a call.”
He handed her a glossy business card.
Dryden rolled it down, grinning wildly as he looked up at her.
She leaned down to his eye level. “F.U.C.K.?” she said with a angled eyebrow. “Honestly?”
“Goodnight, beautiful Hitomi,” Dryden said, his voice caressing her like a warm hand against her cheek in the freezing November air.
The cab steered gently away from the curb and into the night.
------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------------------------------
Hitomi awoke at the sound of soft tapping on her door. Her blanket slipped from her waist as she rose and glided across the room, her sleepy eyes guided by the glitter of a small candle on her dresser.
Her white nightgown flowed lightly around her body, as though she were covered by a cloud. She unlatched the lock as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and quietly pulled the knob.
She squinted at the harsh light seeping in from the hallway and gasped when she recognized the surprise visitor, who leaned expectantly against the door frame. “Dryden?”
“Hitomi,” he whispered her name like a song. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders, the warmth from his touch bringing Hitomi to full attention.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, either,” she said breathily, her heart rate gaining speed with every passing second.
Somehow the door closed and they were together in the darkness of her room, their outlines given away only by the single candle.
A million sensations threatened to overwhelm her at once. Excitement, blind passion, fear, desire, longing, hesitation, abandon, all of which passed through her heart in half a second.
She was sure that Dryden was feeling the same. He kept his hands on her, his eyes locked on hers, asking questions that his mouth could no longer form. She saw all of his need rise to the surface, begging for a sign that she understood.
Slowly, their lips moved closer, closer, closer, until Hitomi felt the supple warmness of his gentle kiss. With that contact, she felt a barrier between them give way.
Almost instantly they were enveloped in each other, red hot burning fervor taking control. It was almost as though their movements were guided by an invisible force.
His hands settled firmly on the small of her back as she wrapped her hands around his neck, deepening the kiss. He flicked his tongue across her bottom lip, asking permission to enter. She parted her lips and felt a flash of heat surge through her groin as he ravished her mouth, causing a long moan from deep within.
Encouraged, he pulled away from her mouth and moved his kisses across her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, all while she hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it from his chest. He released her only to slide the shirt off his arms before turning his attention back to her body. He pulled down the straps of her nightgown, the modesty in his touch dissolving into craze. She wriggled loose of the covering, discarding the garment with rigor.
Dryden drank in her nakedness. He devoured the sight of her plump breasts and pert nipples. He knelt before her, grasping her firm butt with vigor and laying siege to the flesh of her breasts with his hot open mouth. Her fingers ran though his hair as she threw her head back, letting all of the sensations he created engulf her.
He licked the perfect tit starting from the bottom, flicking her puckered nipple before taking it in his mouth. He grazed the sensitive skin with his teeth, sending electricity surging though Hitomi’s body. He suckled and teased unmercifully, eager to relieve the tightness growing in his pants. With one hand he tugged her panties down, rolling the thin fabric over her milky thighs and smooth calves. His mind nearly collapsed at the beautifully consuming scent of her delicate mound. He could feel her shaking as he trailed kisses down her stomach to the place just above her pleasure spot.
He traced the slit with his hot tongue, a jolt of excitement rushing into his groin when she moaned low and long. Hitomi’s hands pushed his face close to her source of heat, but he resisted the urge to delve into her all at once, knowing that the suspense would make the outcome far more explosive.
Dryden continued to tantalize her as he pulled his hands from their firm grasp on her ass, putting them to work at undoing the restrictive pants. As he slid the zipper down he gently guided her to the small bed beside them, the rhythm of her hurried breathing urging him on.
Hitomi struggled to keep her heart under control as she watched him slide his pants off. She felt drunk with lust, the sharp pulsing of her clit the only clear feeling. She couldn’t wait much longer. Her hands covered her tits and squeezed, pleasuring herself as Dryden stood memorized, his stiff cock bulging naked in front of her. One of her hands slid down between her legs as she fixed her gaze on Dryden, willing him to follow her orders. Take me! her mind screamed. Fuck me every way possible.
He came down upon her slowly, fevered as he was, intent on savoring every moment of their encounter. He covered her mouth with hers, his cock pushing gently at the opening of her center.
She groaned. “Dryden, oh please. Oh Dryden,” she sighed, feeling as though she might explode.
His name coming from her throat pushed him over the edge. He entered her, and they both cried out.
“I’m blind,” Hitomi panted in the chaos of pleasure. It seemed as though all of her senses had yielded to the molten heat between her thighs. “Fuck me, I’m blind!”
Dryden moved in and out, the sweet friction of her wetness fresh with every thrust. Her nails dug deeply into the flesh of his back, and he kept one hand on her breasts and the other in her hair.
He pumped as fast as he could, urged on by her cries of passion. He kissed her deeply to silence her, his tongue mimicking the movements of his rod.
Hitomi felt as though she would be torn in half by the orgasm she felt mounting in her loins. He filled her completely, yet she wanted him deeper, harder, faster. She grabbed the back of his head, forbidding him from moving his mouth from her.
He pulled away finally, putting his mouth to work on her neck. She felt the sweet pressure of his sucking, which only added to the heat created by the pounding of his cock.
“Dryden, I’m going to come…”
“Hitooooomiiii!”
“Yes…I’m…I’m--Drydeeennnnn!”
----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------
Hitomi’s eyes shot open, her burning hot flesh uncooled by the freezing morning air in her room. Her body was slick with sweat, her legs bent up, her old t-shirt turned nightgown bunched up around her waist. She felt the pulsing of an amazing orgasm still sending waves of heat through her veins, two fingers of her right hand deep inside her. She removed them slowly, wiping her juices on her shirt as a wide smile spread across her face. She still felt the taste of Dryden’s kisses as though they had actually been there. She remained laying with her legs spread, enjoying the remaining vibrations of her climax.
She got up and caught her reflection in Chelsea’s mirror. She lifted the long t-shirt and saw that she had ripped her panties at the seam. The collar of her shirt was stretched where she had reached under to fondle her breasts. She felt her juices begin to flow again as she remembered her sex dream. Her mind flashed images of Dryden kneeling before her, staring at her, needing her. She had known him less than a day and already he had become the person she knew most intimately.
Hitomi turned, smiling widely, to reach prepare for a bath when a brightly colored paper by the door caught her eye. It was a neon pink square with a message etched in blue ink. She picked it up curiously.
Still here if you need me!
-Bethy
Her orgasm faded completely.
Hitomi flopped back onto her bed and let the note flutter to the floor.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone from such a high to such a low in a spilt second. There was no hope. She had felt happy and sexy for only a moment before being sucked right back into the real world. No matter how hot her wet dream had been, it hadn’t changed the fact that Bethany was still trying to get inside her room, she had one day to move out to the other side of campus, would have to pay $300 to share a room with a stranger for a week, and the misery would continue from there in various ways.
Isn’t there anything in this world that will actually go right for--?
She stopped mid-sentence.
Almost without thought she shuffled through her bag and dialed the phone number from a white business card into her cell phone.
It rang.
“Hello?” said the voice on the other end, sounding a little unsure but cordial.
“Hey Dryden, it’s Hitomi. When you said ‘if you need anything,’ did you mean anything?”
--------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---
Yay! *phfeew* And that was just the beginning. I’m working on putting together the rest of it as you read this! Once again, I just want to thank you guys for sticking by me. I know it’s frustrating having to wait so long for updates (trust me, I’ve been there too!) but it’s just as frustrating have to rewrite something that took so long to write in the first place.
And yes, that was my Merle camio. I’m not a big fan of her, but I feel like she deserves a little nod.
Ooo, before I forget, review!
Huggles,
Candy L.W.P.K.
As I have explained already, a computer crash destroyed all of my work a while back except for what I had already uploaded, causing me to have to rewrite EVERYTHING! *pulls out hair* But I have reconstructed for the most part the very beginning of the third chapter of this little fic. This was about 30 pages when I typed it into Word, so you can imagine how freaking long the entire thing was! And that’s cause I wasn’t even totally done when it got erased!
Before I babble on too much, I want to thank you for the support and encouragement I got. Thank you so much! I really lifted my spirit during my time of darkness.
There are two more things I want to address before I let you all get on with the chapter. #1 - I have gotten complaints from a certain person (who I will not name because I am not like that) about this fic not being VH right away. I personally L-O-V-E Van and Hitomi pairings, but I am trying to write a fic that is a little bit different than some of the regular plot lines that are out there. Yes, I know I am taking a risk of losing some readers by holding out on the VH for now, but what’s life without a few risks? In response to this, please keep an open mind. Even though this person said this in a much less nice way, I would still hate to lose them as a reader.
#2 - I want to thank those who review because it really does help me to know what I’m doing good on and what needs improvement. Even though it may take a little time to do, even the shortest of reviews are helpful.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Escaflowne! *sadness*
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Hitomi rested her chin in the palm of her propped-up hand as she stared out the frosty fifth-floor window to the parking lot outside. The pen in her other hand hadn’t scribbled more than a few words before she zoned out, lost in another place and time.
Dear Allen,
The dorm life is okay so far. My roommate is never here, so I pretty much have my little 20x12 room to myself. I live in 503, which is supposed to be haunted or something. I don’t think any ghost would want to live in a place this shabby. My classes are okay, too, except for that fact that they’re all so big that…
She had started dozens of letters to her friend back home, but none of them ever made it into an envelope. Every time she thought back to Allen and what she had left behind, she always seemed to drift back to him.
Hitomi let out a sigh as she watched the cars from the dorm parking lot turn onto the main road. The traffic was bumper to bumper, and the long trail of red break lights reminded her of the yards and yards of Christmas lights that she used to help her dad put on the tree during the holidays.
Some of the people in those cars were heading home for the Thanksgiving holiday: two weeks of family, catching up old friends, relaxation, and lots of home cooked food. Others were going out to the night clubs and cafes that surrounded the campus. Hitomi wondered if they were anything like the one at which Yoko first picked up Dilandau.
She immediately felt disgusted at the thought of her mother and turned back to her letter, trying to shake Yoko’s face from her mind’s eye.
“Hey, bitch. I’m leavin’.”
Hitomi turned her head to the voice accompanied by the swinging open of the door. Her roommate threw her purse on her stripped bed.
“Hi, Chelsea.”
Chelsea was a 6’0” Russian girl, the sort who wore blue leopard print jeans in the smallest size possible and white t-shirts without a bra, which Hitomi really had no right to criticize her about all things considered. She had dyed her hair bright pink and had a bull ring through her nose. She dragged all of her pre-packed luggage back to the door and yelled out into the hallway, “Drew! Get jur ass here! I’m park in handicapped!”
Hitomi pretended to be looking at the mural of band posters and snapshots that papered Chelsea’s side of the room. Her eyes skimmed over the familiar photos of goth kids giving the finger and mohawked girls with flying-v guitars before settling on Chelsea’s silver-spiked purse. What she saw inside made her eyes light up.
“Need any help, Chels?” she offered, trying to look nonchalant.
“Arrg! Yes, please, Hillary. Can ju put my bags in ze hallway so I ken get Drew? He’s such lazy ass!”
Chelsea stomped out of the room, muttering something in her native language under her breath. Hitomi was still slightly annoyed by the fact that her roomie hadn’t learned her name despite having lived together for almost six months, but she considered what she was about to do a way of evening things out. She slipped the pack of cigarettes out of Chelsea’s ratty black bag and flipped open the top. She slid out one of the non-tobacco cigarettes out and quickly stashed it in one of her own drawers before putting the pack in it’s rightful place.
Hitomi had already put all thirty of Chelsea’s luggage bags outside when the frantic girl finally returned with her boyfriend to help her schlep everything to her car. “Bye, Helen, have a guud Tanksgivin’.”
“You, too, Ch--” The door slammed shut.
------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------
An hour later, Hitomi had gotten around to finishing off the last of her stolen joint. While left hand held the little white cig to her lips, the other wrote furiously in a small journal.
Chelsea left today. Thank God! She and Drew are going to on a two-week cruise for the holiday. Don’t ask me how people who file for food stamps got the money for a boat ride to Panama.
I’m staying here, of course. I thought I had made friends with a girl in my Algebra class, but she didn’t invite me home for Thanksgiving even after I made it a point to mention that I was staying. What a bitch. I hate it when people make me feel like I’m desperately vying for their friendship, like they’re some kind of God. I’d rather be alone.
Actually, that’s a huge lie. When I left mom, I thought that would be it, you know? I’d come out here and have my own life and my own friends, and they would be my family. How can I live here with 50,000 other people and feel completely invisible?
Hitomi let her pen fall out of her grasp, watching it roll off the journal and onto the desk as she took another hit. She held in her breath and stared up at the water stains on the ceiling. They were all different shades of yellow: eggshell, custard, sunflower, reminding her of the rings of a felled tree.
Her eyes prickled with the sting of tears, an old feeling that was more familiar to her than anything else. She tried to ignore the invisible hand tugging at her heart and blew the smoke out in a billowy white stream and leaned forward again.
I guess the fact that I steal Chelsea’s weed isn’t helping us get closer. But, like I said, it’s not like she’s breaking out the fine china for me. Her real name isn’t even “Chelsea.” It’s Merit or Merle or something. She told me that once when she was trippin’ balls (her words, not mine). Also that she’s only with Drew because he’s got the hook up and a gigantic penis. She walked in one him once trying to put the moves on me, and when I apologized, she was just all “So? He’s a guy. Dat’s what he does.” Then I complained about it and she said, “Who do I look like? Jur mom? Ju’re a big girl. If ju can’t take care jurself, go behk to mommy.” Bitch.
Hitomi was interrupted by a loud bang on her door. Wary at first, she waited, staring at the ugly brown door.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
“Hey, it’s Bethany. Your resident assistant.”
Hitomi tossed the little bit of her joint into her top drawer and sprayed some aerosol air freshener.
“Tom-Tom? I know you’re in there. You’re always here.” Bethany laughed, her high-pitched voice shifting into something that sounded like a cross between a seal and a car horn.
Hitomi rolled her eyes. When the fuck did I ever imply that it was okay for her to call me that? She glanced in the mirror quickly to make sure her appearance was normal and crossed the room to opened the door. Standing before her was a short, blonde-haired girl with a big plastic grin and an envelope with the dorm letterhead on top left-hand corner.
“Hi,” Bethany said in her squeaky voice, waiting for the other to invite her.
Hitomi blocked her entrance, trying not to stare and Bethany’s rows and rows of perfectly white teeth. They reminded her of a shark she had once seen in an aquarium tank. “Yes?”
“Umm…I have a letter here from the housing director…” she said as she tried to look past Hitomi, craning her short neck as far as it would go.
The lock to room 503 had been broken at the beginning of the semester by a very drunk Drew, so the new lock was the only one that Bethany’s master key couldn’t open. For some deranged reason, not being able to bust in on Hitomi and Chelsea at her leisure drove her crazy.
Hitomi savored her squirming. “Yeah…What does it say?”
“Oh, here.” The busybody handed over the letter, not realizing how obvious she was being.
Hitomi felt anger rise in her gut. The envelope was opened cleanly, looking as though it has never been sealed. It had more than likely been held over one of the steam pipes in the basement. She took it from Bethany and started reading.
Dear Resident,
Due to the low number of occupants staying over the holiday--
“They want everyone to move to Chastity Hall.”
Hitomi sighed internally. Bethany looked so proud, like she had read Hitomi’s mind and not just a memo, which happened to be a federal offence.
“You have to be over there by Sunday.”
“Okay. Well, thanks, B. I’ll get all my--”
“If you need anything, I could help you pack.”
Hitomi stared, mouth agape, astonished at the gall and creepiness of the girl at the door. Most of all she was disgusted. Bethany stood with her greasy hair framing her face, her five million teeth sparkling in a gesture as genuine as a porcelain doll’s smile.
“Uh…no.” Hitomi closed the door as quickly as possible.
“Oh, Tom-Tom, if you just--”
She turned the deadbolt, and went back to her desk. She ignored the noise coming from Bethany and went back to reading the letter.
Dear Resident,
Due to the low number of occupants staying over the holiday, we are requiring that all students choosing to remain on campus move temporarily to Chastity Hall. We feel that this will allow our staff to operate more efficiently as well as eliminate the need for security to be spread thin.
Because the fees for your semester here at Gatesman Hall cannot be transferred, there will be a nonrefundable $300 charge for your two week stay at Chastity Hall in order to cover the costs generated by catering to more residents. This fee can be paid up until the end of this semester. Failing to do so will by this time will result is you being prevented from signing up for any further classes.
We hope that you--
“Jesus Christ! They want more money? Damn it,” Hitomi said to herself.
Man…I need to get out of here.
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It was bitter and drizzling outside the MoonBean Café and Lounge, but Hitomi would have preferred the ice-slicked sidewalks to the cold stares she was getting from a table of bitchy co-eds across the room. They laughed and sneered at her while they tossed back cosmopolitans and Long Island ice teas, and one Brunette in particular glanced back every now and again to enjoy Hitomi’s misery.
About an hour before all this, Hitomi had been happily primping and grooming for her outing: teasing and styling her hair, glossing lips and shadowing eye lids, and squeezing into clothes that not even Yoko would try to fork-lift her shameless ass into.
The pain of plucking and pulling had done it’s job. Hitomi stood in front of the cracked full-length mirror Chelsea had left behind, twisting and turning proudly. She had finally gotten the courage to put in a pair of dark-wash low-rise jeans that hugged her hips like a second skin. The gold sequins of her tank top shimmered faintly in the dull light of her dorm room, stopping about an inch above her navel. Hitomi felt a little shy about showing off her stomach, but she just felt so damn good about coming out of her shell a bit. Her hair had grown out, lightly brushing her shoulders. Her green eyes still sparkled brightly amidst all of the flair on her body.
As she slinked out the door, she slipped on her coat and a pair of bright red pumps she had bought on a whim while shopping alone at Midwick, a part of the city that was sort of like a flea market where anyone could buy anything at any time.
Immediately after stepping through the tinted doors of MoonBean, she felt part of a sexy velvet world. A soft jazz band played on the stage at the back, framed by purple curtains fringed with silver. All of the tables were small and dark finished with low candles burning at their centers. Along the walls were black leather couches and coffee tables littered with art magazines. The bar curved down the length of the left wall, champagne glasses hanging from above. Everywhere, people were in twos and threes and fours, laughing, conversation, arguing, or listening and nodding to the music.
Hitomi removed her coat and headed for the bar, not wanting to sit at a table alone. She ordered a appletini and handed her ID to the bartender, who looked back at forth from her to the rectangle of plastic a few times. Hitomi held her breath until he decided that it was real and pulled out a martini glass.
“Thank you,” she said when he slid it in front of her on a napkin, relief spreading through her.
As Hitomi sipped at her drink, she flipped the fake ID between her fingers. Dilandau had bought it for her over a year ago. She had been sketching him laying on her bed after they had made love.
“Shit, I almost forgot,” he said, reaching over the to his pants on the floor.
“Stay still. How and I supposed to finish this if you keep moving?”
“You know,” he sat up, card in hand, “you’re lucky that your smart mouth is so fuckin’ beautiful.”
Hitomi couldn’t help but blush a little at his compliment, crude as it was. She put down her sketch pad as he crawled across the bed to her.
“Here.”
“What’s this?”
“A dog turd.”
“Ha ha. You’re a comedic genius.”
“What the fuck’s it look like? It’s an ID.”
“A fake ID?”
“No.”
“Well, I don’t remember going to the DMV with you.”
“Of course you don’t. You were blazed.”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I made it.”
“So it’s fake?”
“Duh it’s fake. Sorr-y. I’ll think twice next time I want to do you a favor.”
“No, no, no, thank you. I just…what’s it for?”
“For whenever you want to go out with friends or something.”
“I don’t have any friends.”
“Or whenever you go out with me.”
“Where would we go that I would need a fake ID?”
“You ask too many questions.”
“Well--”
“C hrist! Do you want the damn thing or not?”
“Yeah, I do, but…”
“But?”
220;That’s not my birthday.”
Silence.
“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”
“Come on, baby. Every day is your birthday when you’re with me.”
“Oh, pl-ease!”
“Come here, I got something else for you.”
“What, a misspelled tattoo of my name?”
“Why don’t you come over here and see?”
“Oooh…I see. There’s no age requirement to get into Club Dilandau.”
“Hey, are you saying I’m easy?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Abso-fuckin’-luetly.”
“That doesn’t mean I am.”
“Really? Not even it I do…this?”
“Well…maybe a little.”
“…and this?”
“Mmm…”
Hitomi was happily lost in her memory when she noticed the bartender staring at her. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed and a little uneasy. He continued to look in her direction, but she pretended to be studying the assortment of liquor bottles behind the bar.
“Long Island iced tea, please.”
Hitomi hadn’t noticed the guy who had sat down beside her. She began to tear bits of paper off of her napkin, starting to regret her outing.
Jesus Christ! It’s like every five minutes, I think of him. Why can’t I get him out of my head? Please let me get him out of my head…
The stranger eyed her up and down, a glint of recognition in his eye.
“Hey, you’re in my history class, right?”
Hitomi looked up and immediately felt her cheeks flush. It was Jayde McSomethingorother. His last name wasn’t important. What was important was the fact that he was the person who had given Hitomi the most attention of anyone since she’d left home.
“Yeah. Uh, yes. Yes,” she stammered.
“Yeah, you sit next to me.” He way his nose wrinkled when he smiled made Hitomi melt a little inside.
“Yes.” She flashed back to the last class period they shared together.
Hitomi was desperately trying to stay awake when she felt a nudge on her shoulder.
Jayde had come in late and was looking at her as he scrambled to pull a notebook from his backpack. He whispered something, but it was too low for Hitomi to hear.
“What?” she whispered back, leaning closer.
Jayde put his spiral on the desk and moved close to Hitomi, his hand resting on her shoulder. As he opened his mouth, his breath warmed her earlobe. She breathed in his peppermint-scented breath mint. Her stomach did a flip-flop.
“Are we on chapter three or four?”
She was half-giddy when she answered. “Yes.”
“Huh?” He pulled away, a question mark plastered on his face.
Hitomi realized her mistake. “Oh, ha. Um…three.”
A dazzling smile returned to his lips. “Thanks.”
Hitomi didn’t hear anything the professor said for the rest of the class.
“‘Yes?’ Is that all you know how to say, or are you just really really positive?”
Hitomi laughed a little louder than she intended to, but she couldn’t help herself. Jayde was just so damn gorgeous. He had high cheek bones, pouty lips, olive skin, dark eyes, everything the Greeks would have put on a sculpture. On top of all that, he was (as far as she was concerned) the nicest person in a hundred-mile radius.
“I…Well, what’s wrong with looking on the bright side of things?” Hitomi did her best to seem relaxed, like beautiful guys approached her all the time.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.”
“Long Island,” the bartender said as he interrupted their moment.
Hitomi thought she saw him roll his eyes at Jayde, but the moment passed so quickly she wasn’t sure it had happened at all.
“Thanks,” Jayde said politely, but the barkeep had turned his back by then.
“What’s up with him?” Hitomi felt more than a little annoyed by his intrusion.
“Eh, who cares? What I really want to know why a pretty girl like you is sitting all alone at the bar on a Friday night when she should be on the arm of any guy she wants.” He put his lips to the rim of his glass.
Hitomi felt her knees get weak. Thank God I’m sitting down…
“Well, I don’t know that many people, and most of the ones I do know are on their way home, so…” She took a sip of her martini, partly because her mouth had gone dry, partly because she was afraid to say something stupid.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, his charcoal eyes fixed on her.
Hitomi nearly gagged on her drink. “Excuse me?” She tried unsuccessfully to hide the surprise in her voice. She tucked her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she hadn’t been able to indulge when her hair was pixie-short.
That earned her another bright smile. “I just meant that it’s hard for me to believe that someone like you would be spending the holiday alone. If you were my friend, I’d have invited you home in a second.”
Hitomi’s heart jumped into her throat. She was confused. She felt like she was in pre-Dilandau high school again, awkward and gawky, not quite sure how to sit or what to do with her hands. She must have been visibly flustered because Jayde put his hand on her knee, rubbing reassuringly.
“Hey, are you okay? Do you want me to get you some--”
“Baaaaaby!”
Out of no where a buxom brunette bounded onto Jayde’s arm. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I’m missed you soooo so much! Did you--”
Hitomi would have had to be traveling at the speed of sound to hear whatever it was she said next. Even if the girl hadn’t been talking at a pace too fast for a jet plane, Hitomi figured it wouldn’t matter anyway. The girl’s outfit was louder than any noise she could make.
It was some kind of pink leather tube top that barely kept her boobs from popping out. Her skirt was a ripped white denim mini, and she wore gold stiletto shoes. Under the light from the bar, Hitomi could see that her skin was somewhat orange, a product of too much spray tanning. To top it all off, when Brunette did a twirl for the disgustingly pleased Jayde, Hitomi got a glimpse of a tribal-style lower back tattoo and a barbed wire wrap-around tattoo on her left arm.
Oh…my…God. This guy is dating Jerry Springer Barbie.
“You look beautiful, baby,” Hitomi heard him say through her fog of disbelief. The paradox his statement created snapped her back to reality.
“It was nice talking to you…uh…?” He looked at her expectantly as he stared moving away with Brunette wrapped around his waist.
“Hitomi,” she managed to spit out, trying to keep the shock off her face.
“Yeah, that. See you in class.”
As she watched her Dream Guy walk away with someone who could only be an off-duty stripper, Hitomi couldn’t help but feel like a semi truck full of rotting garbage had just ploughed over her at a thousand miles per hour. When Brunette tuned back around and stuck her tongue out at Hitomi while giving her the finger, the semi backed up and rolled over Hitomi a few more times.
Hitomi tossed back the rest of her appletini. She almost wished she were back home with Yoko.
Almost.
--------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hitomi sat at the bar in a position similar to the one she often took up at her writing desk, except that she was staring into the mirrored glass behind the bar rather than out a window. She was tired of being heckled and glared at, but she was hesitant to go out and try to find another club where the bartender would accept her ID.
Going back to the dorm wasn’t a particularly desirable option either, seeing as how Bethany was practically humping to door knob to Hitomi’s room trying to get in.
On the other hand, staying wasn’t doing her much good. She was alone and about to start her third appletini, which meant she had had too much to drink and too much time to think.
What was I thinking? Why would a guy like that go for me? Stupid, stupid, stupid! God Almighty, why am even looking for a guy? I’m so fucking lonely, but every time I even think about finding someone, I feel guilty. Dilandau’s probably got a new girl by now. No, I don’t even want to think that way. And I know he doesn’t have a new girl. He loves me too much.
Hitomi swirled the liquid in the glass, a few drops spilled over onto the counter.
Why can’t I stop thinking about him? I wish I could rip his memory out of my brain.
She took a mouthful of her drink, swished it around in her mouth, and swallowed.
No, I don’t. What I want more than anything is for him to be here with me right now. I wouldn’t need anything else in the world if I had him.
She felt her eyes get misty, that familiar sting.
I need to stop thinking that. He’s never coming back, no matter how much I wish for him.
The tears spilled over her lower eye lids onto her cheeks. Embarrassed, she wiped them away as quickly as she could, trying not to draw attention to herself.
Jesus, I’m so pathetic. Why am I crying over that jerk? He did more damage than he did good. He’s the reason I’m so fucked up right now.
Her face grew hot; she was angry at the images her mind conjured up.
This is his fault.
Hitomi had had enough. She dug through her purse and fished out money to pay for her last drink. When she looked up for the bartender, she found him gone. In his place was a thin man with dark blue hair. She waved him over.
“No worries, miss,” he said when she tried to hand him the money. “Compliments of the gentleman at the end of the bar.”
Hitomi turned to her left, startled at this unexpected news. The only other person sitting was the first bartender. Her lifted his pony-necked beer and nodded to her before taking a swig.
Hitomi nodded back, shoved her money into her bag, and headed toward the door. Her somewhat abrupt exit earned oh’s and ah’s and a few laughs from Brunette’s table, but she didn’t hear them. She was done with people.
----------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------
“Ta xi!” she cried for the fourth time. The yellow monster whizzed by her, spraying some of the cold, dirty street water on her feet. “No,” she whined, she shoulders slumping.
This is some kind of conspiracy to get me to kill myself, she thought dejectedly. Yoko hired Jayde, that brunette, and the creepy bartender to push me within a inch of my sanity. Like I would ever give her the satisfaction.
“Taxi!” she yelled again, waving her arms frantically. “TAXI!”
It didn’t even slow down for the giant speed bump in the middle of the road. Hitomi began to get more and more anxious. Not because she had been standing outside alone for almost half an hour, but because the longer it took for her to get a cab, the more likely it was that Jayde and his crew would come outside and see her in her wretched state.
She felt like crying again.
Why did I ever think I could do this? Why did I ever think Yoko was wrong about me?
She raised her tired arm as a white cab came into view. She was just about to open her mouth when…
“Taxi!”
Hitomi nearly jumped out of her skin. She whipped her head around to see where the voice had come from.
Standing behind her was Creepy Bartender, the guy who had glared at Jayde and bought her a drink.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he said. His voice was surprisingly soft and kind. “You need to say it like you’re angry at them, or else they won’t stop.”
“Oh,” was all she could muster. She was occupied with studying his face.
Up close, he didn’t really seem like the image of bartender’s Hitomi had in her mind. He had glasses, and his brown hair was tied back into a pony tail, something she hadn’t even noticed inside. He didn’t seem to be very muscular, though he was obviously in good shape. What struck Hitomi most was that he seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He just seemed to be too mature and intelligent and artsy looking to be…well, a bartender.
“Would you like to share?” His voice was rich, but not deep. It was low, but not monotone.
“Hmm?” Hitomi was busy tracing his lips with her eyes. They were pale and full, and for some reason looked extremely inviting.
“Share. We can drop you off.” The cab had stopped and he was already holding the door open. “And then I’ll take the cab back to my place.”
Hitomi hesitated. Was she really about to get into a taxi in the middle of the night with a stranger she knew nothing about?
The bartender waited for her to answer, then motioned to the seat when she stayed silent.
Well, I don’t think anything could make the night worse at this point. Besides, I’ll be safe as long as I’m in the cab.
She let him help her into the car.
-------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------
“ ;Where to?” the cabbie asked.
“Ivy and University, please,” Hitomi said, settling into the uncomfortable upholstery.
“Then Cranberry and Black,” Bartender said.
“Hey, we live pretty close to each other,” Hitomi said.
“Yeah,” Bartender Guy said. “The evening commute is still a pain, though.”
They road in silence for the few minutes after, and Hitomi watched the buildings and streetlights melt together in a blur of grays and whites. She realized that her head was still slightly foggy from the alcohol.
“So, you’re a student?”
“Mm-hum. Freshman,” she said, turning to look at him.
He was gazing out his window, a smile creeping onto his lips.
“What?” Hitomi asked.
“I knew that ID was fake,” he turned to her, his eyes full of playful laughter. “It’s good, I’ll give you that much. Whoever did it knows his stuff.”
Hitomi blushed, not realizing she had given herself away. “Yeah. Then why did you still serve me?”
He breathed in deeply and sighed. “A lot of kids with fake IDs complain to the manager if I turned them away because they know he’ll let them drink. He doesn’t care. As long as you have money and a card that says you’re of age, then whatever happens to you at the end of the night is your fault.”
Hitomi tensed a little, hoping his words were warning and not some sort of foreshadowing. She crossed her legs and tucked her hair behind her ear.
He noticed her anxiety right away. “Hey, kid. I’m not…you know…some kind of pervert, or anything. We’re just sharing a cab.”
He was relaxed, and he made her feel calm. She took the opportunity to study him more closely. Peeking out from underneath the sleeve of his shirt was a splash of red and blue, the edged of a tattoo. He smelled like cloves and tobacco, from being at MoonBean or from his own cigarettes, she couldn‘t tell. The longer she was with Bartender Guy, the more she was intrigued.
“Yeah, I know,” Hitomi smiled, glad that something wasn’t going disastrously.
“I’m Dryden, by the way,” he held out his hand.
“Hitomi,” she grasped it. It was firm, yet gentle and soft.
“Hitomi,” he repeated, as though he were savoring an exotic sweet. “That’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you,” she found herself smiling wider. “I like you’re name, too. I’ve never heard it before.”
He chuckled, deep and soft. “My mother thought it meant ‘from God’ in Spanish.”
“Does it?”
“No. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, no!” Hitomi gasped, not sure it she should be upset for him or laugh.
“No, it’s fine. My mother was on acid for most of my childhood, so I’m glad just to be here,” he said with a chuckle. His apparently broken childhood was not an issue too private to share with a strange girl.
Hitomi didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t been expecting such a personal disclosure. “Well, it’s still a beautiful name,” she said, trying not to seem rude.
“Thank you. What about you, Hitomi. How did you get your name?”
Hitomi hesitated for a moment. Oh, what the heck. I’m probably not ever going see him again anyway. Might as well…
“Um, when my mom was pregnant, she thought my dad was cheating on her, so she named me after the woman she thought he was fooling around with.”
Dryden was silent for a moment. “Oh, God. That’s awful,” he said, genuine concern in his voice as though he were asking Are you okay now?
“It doesn’t bother me. I didn’t actually find out until they got divorced, but that’s a whole other story.”
“Umm…Jesus, I’m sorry. That was incredibly stupid of me to ask,” he rubbed the back of his head.
“No, don’t be. You didn’t know. I shouldn’t have--”
“No, really, that was…I mean…I didn’t…”
“Here we are. Ivy and University,” the cabbie said.
“Listen,” Dryden started, “I can’t just leave you like this. I feel like a total jerk.” His eyes were large and apologetic.
Hitomi felt bad for him. He was only trying to be nice, and he seemed to have completely made an ass out of himself in his own mind.
“At least let me buy you something to eat. If you’re not too tired, that is. I don’t want to make you stay out.”
“I…” Another surprise for Hitomi. They hadn’t known each other for more than fifteen minutes, and Dryden was treating her with more affection than anyone she knew. She tried to pretend it took at least a few seconds to make up her mind. “Sure. I’d love to. Why not?”
“Excellent,” he said, breaking out into a grin. “Driver, take us to Henrietta’s on Cranberry.”
“You got it. Henrietta’s on Cranberry, it is.”
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------
̶ 0;You’re kidding. You’ve got to be,” Hitomi said, her face somewhere between dead seriousness and uncontrollable laughter.
“Nope, it’s true,” Dryden replied with a smirk.
Hitomi had decided half an hour earlier that she loved his smile. It was a little mischievous and a little sweet.
“No,” Hitomi shook her head. “There’s no way it’s that big.”
“Would you like to check?” Dryden challenged, motioning under the table.
“Yeah, I would,” Hitomi said defiantly, wanting to see hard proof of his claim.
Dryden broke out into a wide smile. “Happy to oblige, darlin’.”
Hitomi leaned over the table as he reached into his pants. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, her eyes growing as big as saucers. “That’s a big as my fist!”
“Yup,” Dryden said proudly before tossing the rolled up wad of cash nonchalantly onto the table. “But you might want to keep it down. You’re giving the folks at table six a play by play.”
Hitomi looked around feeling a little sheepish. There were several other booths and table in the small Southern-comfort-food diner, but no one seemed to have looked up from their menus, newspapers, or platters. It wasn’t hard to see why, though. The atmosphere was so relaxed and casual --blue checkered table clothes, paper napkins, posters of high school football teams and marching band members and cheerleaders lining the wall, soft country music in the background-- that she doubted anything short of a building fire would get people to move from their over-stuffed seat cushions.
Hitomi turned to the object in her hands, removing the rubber band and thumbing through the green bills: ones, fives, tens, twenties. Dryden had more money from his tip jar than she had held in a very long time.
“And this is all from one night?”
He nodded, waving the waitress over for a refill.
“Wow,” Hitomi sighed, “I’m in the wrong business.” She wrapped the rubber band back around the money.
Dryden cocked an eyebrow and he accepted the roll of cash she handed over. “And what business would that be, exactly?”
“The business of be-dirt-poor-until-I-get-a-college-degree.” She leaned back into the plastic booth and picked at the remains of her Country Kitchen He-Man Dinner Special. The chicken fried steak was mostly gone, as were the mashed potatoes, but a few peas were still swimming around in the left over gravy.
“Dirt poor? I wouldn’t call being able to afford a college education being poor. Besides, didn’t you say your mom worked for an ad agency or something?” He had his elbows on the table, all attention focused on her.
Hitomi secretly admitted to herself how nice it felt to have someone paying attention to her. Someone who actually bothered to learn her name and at least pretend to be interested in her life. She wondered how much longer she could keep him hooked.
“She does, but we don’t speak anymore. Big fall out.”
“Ah,” Dryden said, not in the slightest put off. “I know a little something about fall outs, too. What about your dad? Isn’t he running around the Amazon filming topless indigenous women, or something like that?”
“No,” Hitomi giggled. She was impressed. He had the chance to change the topic to himself, but he had steered right back around to her. “He sends me money, but I don’t have the heart to tell him how much tuition actually is. I know that he and his family would be living in a dirt-floored shanty so I could keep going to school.”
“Wow, that’s great that he loves you so much,” Dryden said, his eyes going soft.
“Yeah,” Hitomi said, grateful that his words were true. Even if her ties with Yoko were pretty much severed, Dad would still be there for her whenever she needed someone. Unfortunately, Hitomi knew that his solution would be for her to move with him to Brazil, something she wasn’t ready to do. “What about you, Dryden? Got any family?”
“Yeah, a dad,” he said, looking down for a second before focusing his eyes on the world outside the window. The street was empty aside from the occasional police car or taxi. “I was an only child, so you can imagine was a disappointment I am to him.”
“You’re not a disappointment,” Hitomi said, furrowing her brow.
He scoffed. “You don’t know my old man.” He let out a long breath and looked back at her. “Let me put it this way: that roll I just showed you, which usually adds up anywhere from six hundred to a fifteen hundred every weekend, is chump change to him.”
“Jesus Christ,” Hitomi whispered. Months of living only on her meal plan and spare change made Dryden’s wages seem like an insurmountable amount of money. That someone could see that money as laughable as it was insane to her. “What does he do?”
Dryden took a sip of his coffee, which had finally cooled down somewhat. “Construction.”
Hitomi didn’t buy it. There was something unsure in his answer, a waver in his glance or his voice, but she was having too good a time to ruin it by meddling into something that wasn’t her business anyway. She shrugged it off.
“So, Miss Hitomi, ready to call it a night?” he asked, glancing at her nearly clean plate.
“Yup,” she said with a satisfied grin. “I’m about ready to go.”
She stood out by the curb trying to hail a taxi while Dryden paid the check.
“Taxi!” she yelled, watching a green and yellow cab fly past her. Her cheeks were flushed pink with frustration. If I end up standing out here like a fool again, I’m going to hurt someone.
A white cab rounded around the corner, speeding along the slick road. Hitomi breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with cold night air.
“TAXIIIIII!”
The car came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road before reversing and pulling up in front of her.
“That’s more like it,” a voice said from behind.
Hitomi looked over her shoulder to see Dryden and a gigantic smirk on his face.
“How long have you been standing there?” she asked.
“Long enough to be impressed,” he said as he walked past her and held open the door.
“Thank you.” She slid in and told the cabbie Ivy and University.
On the ride home, Hitomi and Dryden talked like two old friends. When the taxi rolled to a stop in front of Gatesman Hall, they turned to each other.
“I had a great time,” they said in unison.
They both chuckled. Hitomi loved the sound of Dryden’s deep, soft laugh. She imagined that if chocolate had a sound, rich and smooth and sweet, it would be his laugh.
“Hitomi, if you ever need anything,” he reached into his coat pocket, “you just give me a call.”
He handed her a glossy business card.
Fortula Uma Caddy Kees
Art, Print, and Design
Dryden Fassa
Owner/Talent
555-0690
Hitomi couldn’t help but smile. She slid out of the cab and tapped on the window.Art, Print, and Design
Dryden Fassa
Owner/Talent
555-0690
Dryden rolled it down, grinning wildly as he looked up at her.
She leaned down to his eye level. “F.U.C.K.?” she said with a angled eyebrow. “Honestly?”
“Goodnight, beautiful Hitomi,” Dryden said, his voice caressing her like a warm hand against her cheek in the freezing November air.
The cab steered gently away from the curb and into the night.
------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------------------------------
Hitomi awoke at the sound of soft tapping on her door. Her blanket slipped from her waist as she rose and glided across the room, her sleepy eyes guided by the glitter of a small candle on her dresser.
Her white nightgown flowed lightly around her body, as though she were covered by a cloud. She unlatched the lock as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and quietly pulled the knob.
She squinted at the harsh light seeping in from the hallway and gasped when she recognized the surprise visitor, who leaned expectantly against the door frame. “Dryden?”
“Hitomi,” he whispered her name like a song. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders, the warmth from his touch bringing Hitomi to full attention.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, either,” she said breathily, her heart rate gaining speed with every passing second.
Somehow the door closed and they were together in the darkness of her room, their outlines given away only by the single candle.
A million sensations threatened to overwhelm her at once. Excitement, blind passion, fear, desire, longing, hesitation, abandon, all of which passed through her heart in half a second.
She was sure that Dryden was feeling the same. He kept his hands on her, his eyes locked on hers, asking questions that his mouth could no longer form. She saw all of his need rise to the surface, begging for a sign that she understood.
Slowly, their lips moved closer, closer, closer, until Hitomi felt the supple warmness of his gentle kiss. With that contact, she felt a barrier between them give way.
Almost instantly they were enveloped in each other, red hot burning fervor taking control. It was almost as though their movements were guided by an invisible force.
His hands settled firmly on the small of her back as she wrapped her hands around his neck, deepening the kiss. He flicked his tongue across her bottom lip, asking permission to enter. She parted her lips and felt a flash of heat surge through her groin as he ravished her mouth, causing a long moan from deep within.
Encouraged, he pulled away from her mouth and moved his kisses across her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, all while she hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it from his chest. He released her only to slide the shirt off his arms before turning his attention back to her body. He pulled down the straps of her nightgown, the modesty in his touch dissolving into craze. She wriggled loose of the covering, discarding the garment with rigor.
Dryden drank in her nakedness. He devoured the sight of her plump breasts and pert nipples. He knelt before her, grasping her firm butt with vigor and laying siege to the flesh of her breasts with his hot open mouth. Her fingers ran though his hair as she threw her head back, letting all of the sensations he created engulf her.
He licked the perfect tit starting from the bottom, flicking her puckered nipple before taking it in his mouth. He grazed the sensitive skin with his teeth, sending electricity surging though Hitomi’s body. He suckled and teased unmercifully, eager to relieve the tightness growing in his pants. With one hand he tugged her panties down, rolling the thin fabric over her milky thighs and smooth calves. His mind nearly collapsed at the beautifully consuming scent of her delicate mound. He could feel her shaking as he trailed kisses down her stomach to the place just above her pleasure spot.
He traced the slit with his hot tongue, a jolt of excitement rushing into his groin when she moaned low and long. Hitomi’s hands pushed his face close to her source of heat, but he resisted the urge to delve into her all at once, knowing that the suspense would make the outcome far more explosive.
Dryden continued to tantalize her as he pulled his hands from their firm grasp on her ass, putting them to work at undoing the restrictive pants. As he slid the zipper down he gently guided her to the small bed beside them, the rhythm of her hurried breathing urging him on.
Hitomi struggled to keep her heart under control as she watched him slide his pants off. She felt drunk with lust, the sharp pulsing of her clit the only clear feeling. She couldn’t wait much longer. Her hands covered her tits and squeezed, pleasuring herself as Dryden stood memorized, his stiff cock bulging naked in front of her. One of her hands slid down between her legs as she fixed her gaze on Dryden, willing him to follow her orders. Take me! her mind screamed. Fuck me every way possible.
He came down upon her slowly, fevered as he was, intent on savoring every moment of their encounter. He covered her mouth with hers, his cock pushing gently at the opening of her center.
She groaned. “Dryden, oh please. Oh Dryden,” she sighed, feeling as though she might explode.
His name coming from her throat pushed him over the edge. He entered her, and they both cried out.
“I’m blind,” Hitomi panted in the chaos of pleasure. It seemed as though all of her senses had yielded to the molten heat between her thighs. “Fuck me, I’m blind!”
Dryden moved in and out, the sweet friction of her wetness fresh with every thrust. Her nails dug deeply into the flesh of his back, and he kept one hand on her breasts and the other in her hair.
He pumped as fast as he could, urged on by her cries of passion. He kissed her deeply to silence her, his tongue mimicking the movements of his rod.
Hitomi felt as though she would be torn in half by the orgasm she felt mounting in her loins. He filled her completely, yet she wanted him deeper, harder, faster. She grabbed the back of his head, forbidding him from moving his mouth from her.
He pulled away finally, putting his mouth to work on her neck. She felt the sweet pressure of his sucking, which only added to the heat created by the pounding of his cock.
“Dryden, I’m going to come…”
“Hitooooomiiii!”
“Yes…I’m…I’m--Drydeeennnnn!”
----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------
Hitomi’s eyes shot open, her burning hot flesh uncooled by the freezing morning air in her room. Her body was slick with sweat, her legs bent up, her old t-shirt turned nightgown bunched up around her waist. She felt the pulsing of an amazing orgasm still sending waves of heat through her veins, two fingers of her right hand deep inside her. She removed them slowly, wiping her juices on her shirt as a wide smile spread across her face. She still felt the taste of Dryden’s kisses as though they had actually been there. She remained laying with her legs spread, enjoying the remaining vibrations of her climax.
She got up and caught her reflection in Chelsea’s mirror. She lifted the long t-shirt and saw that she had ripped her panties at the seam. The collar of her shirt was stretched where she had reached under to fondle her breasts. She felt her juices begin to flow again as she remembered her sex dream. Her mind flashed images of Dryden kneeling before her, staring at her, needing her. She had known him less than a day and already he had become the person she knew most intimately.
Hitomi turned, smiling widely, to reach prepare for a bath when a brightly colored paper by the door caught her eye. It was a neon pink square with a message etched in blue ink. She picked it up curiously.
Still here if you need me!
-Bethy
Her orgasm faded completely.
Hitomi flopped back onto her bed and let the note flutter to the floor.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone from such a high to such a low in a spilt second. There was no hope. She had felt happy and sexy for only a moment before being sucked right back into the real world. No matter how hot her wet dream had been, it hadn’t changed the fact that Bethany was still trying to get inside her room, she had one day to move out to the other side of campus, would have to pay $300 to share a room with a stranger for a week, and the misery would continue from there in various ways.
Isn’t there anything in this world that will actually go right for--?
She stopped mid-sentence.
Almost without thought she shuffled through her bag and dialed the phone number from a white business card into her cell phone.
It rang.
“Hello?” said the voice on the other end, sounding a little unsure but cordial.
“Hey Dryden, it’s Hitomi. When you said ‘if you need anything,’ did you mean anything?”
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Yay! *phfeew* And that was just the beginning. I’m working on putting together the rest of it as you read this! Once again, I just want to thank you guys for sticking by me. I know it’s frustrating having to wait so long for updates (trust me, I’ve been there too!) but it’s just as frustrating have to rewrite something that took so long to write in the first place.
And yes, that was my Merle camio. I’m not a big fan of her, but I feel like she deserves a little nod.
Ooo, before I forget, review!
Huggles,
Candy L.W.P.K.