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C2 - Friday /
{The Best Part Of waking up, Isn't…}
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Karma is just fuel, it has no moral make up. It's what you do with it that pushes it into the world as good or bad.
Friday had come, rather easily. Pulling me from my slumber with a gentle tug.
Emily's bed was empty. The shower was running. Sunlight had started to chase the darkness and reawaken the shadows' forms. I pulled on my shorts, stepped onto the hardwood, feeling its time worn warmth on the soles of my feet. I stretched and looked out the window to the east.
A blinding arc, of shimmering, crimson brilliance, brought clarity to the once bleak horizon. Mist fleeted across the hills, dispersing slowly, undressing the world beneath. Golds, greens and blues reflected off the glistening water below. Painting the world, like the stained glass of the lobby painted the faces of my compatriots the day before, in shifting subtle tones.
The curtain had risen. The play, was afoot.
I heard a door open. Bare footsteps softly tread on the floor. I could feel her presence closing in. She stopped and stood next to me, near enough for me to feel the warmth of a fresh, hot shower emanating off her skin.
"Hi."
I turned to my left. "Morning to you too."
Her eyes were partially closed to the brilliance outside. Her hair was tied back offering me a glimpse of her long, slender neck. It had a feline elegance and a swanlike grace. She stood right next to me in a long, white, plush robe. Her mouth slightly agape. We stood there in silent awe at the spectacle beyond the walls. Our arms brushed together and stayed touching until it was done.
It was the only good part of the first half of the day.
A day that was filled with games, and tests, and some, sharing exercises. It was boring as hell. And I still didn't get what it had to do with anything but childish fun. This was summer camp crap. I did it as a kid. It just didn't present the same glimmer of challenge any more. I looked at it, as one would a treadmill, you're going nowhere, but at least your body's moving. It was more than a chore to get through. Then, finally, after a few quick words from the coordinator, this endeavor was done.
The rest of the day had begun.
When I walked in our room, Emily was feet to the door, laptop in hand, glued to the screen with the same fiery eyes as the day before. She heard the door close and looked up.
"Hi."
"I see that look. Havin fun?"
"Mmhm."
"Well, don't stop on my behalf."
She smiled and went back to her hunt. She was tracking an evil, chaotic, demi-god of epic proportions. One misspelled word, one misplaced comma, one errant bracket, a colon instead of a semi. This prey was a shifty one and it liked to don many disguises. I know. I've tracked him a few times.
My look though, was a bit colder. And, where I aimed to corner the demons with ice, she seemed to prefer to bring them to light, with fire.
I was cleaning and polishing my third lens when she closed her laptop and stretched.
"Joe."
"Em."
"Aare yYou hunngry?"
"Forty five minutes after every meal."
"Wowouuld Yyou..."
"Yes."
We made our way to the lobby, where the the Team Builders' food cart was. It was pretty much just sandwich parts and Swedish meatballs. Just like the night before. The cold cuts were packaged, pre-sliced. The condiment packets told you exactly what was in them. Nothing more. Mustard, Mayo, Salt. Hot… which wasn't. I knew from yesterday. We wandered to the cafeteria and perused their wares. I bought a really tangy, very spicy sauce and a phenomenal fuckin mayo from the lodge's dining room.
Partway through my sandwich I seriously began to rethink my meal choice locations.
"What do you think about grabbing lodge food tomorrow?"
I was met with a very enthusiastic mouthful, "MMHmM."
We ate with a quiet content until we were sated and stuffed. If they can make a simple seasoning that, when added to a beyond ordinarily bland meal, can make me actually enjoy it, I had to try their cooking.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
It seemed my partner in dine was of the very same mind.
We went back to room 11 with a slightly more rural taste on our pallets. Time had sped passed us yet again and we found ourselves with nothing left to do but wind down and get ready to call it a night.
I went to the bathroom, took a quick shower and slipped on my shorts. I guess she had changed real quick and hopped into bed. When I returned she was already under the covers. Lost in her laptop, with that intense, analytical glare. She was on another mission. You could feel it.
I crawled under the sheets, took off my shorts and tucked them on the side. Then I opened up my laptop and sorted through the pictures, of my world, from the night before. I proofed through them fast.
Just to see if anything caught my eye.
Some were complete fucking garbage so I put them in the Flushables folder. Most weren't bad. Some were Workables. Some were hmmm, I like that. One or two definitely made me smile. I looked to my right.
She was locked in on that flickering screen, fierce. I decided not to derail that train. She appeared to be hot on the tail of her quarry. Showing her, could wait a little longer. Probably when something flicked me on the ear and said, 'Don't you have a thing to do?'.
After scrolling through the files, I decided an entertaining distraction was in order. I put a cd on the tray and settled in. I hit play and turned the volume low enough to greet my ears. I didn't need to hear it, to know what was going on.
A few minutes in, the theme song started to play.
'Take my love, take my land. Take me where I cannot stand.'
I felt her perk up.
'I don't care, I'm still free. You can't take the sky from me.'
She turned with a knowing, curious smile.
"Fffffire-fly?"
'Take me out, to the black, Tell them I ain't comin'...'
"Yes Ma'am. I figured I had enough time this week to see it, and Serenity, one more time. Nothing chases boredom like some Big Damn Heroics. Not in my world anyway."
"Cccan I wwwa-tch with, you?"
"Mmhmm." (yes. I can speak it too, but it's nicer to listen to coming from her.)
She got out of bed. Stepped to the floor and stretched. And took my notice, yet again.
She was wearing a white tank top and pink flannel shorts, both of which she filled out very nicely. Yes, she was a thicker girl, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on her. She was more, warrior goddess thick. Drop Dead, Highlander, Farm Girl, Gorgeous, comes to mind. She had a presence with a softness and subtlety to her curves that drew me in. Her proportions were molded to a sculptor's envy. What I guessed was a b-cup, under her oversized shirts, was a very nice, small, b-cup set of breasts. And they sat strong on her chest. Her nipples stretched the threads to fit their needs and shape. Her stomach was full, firm and flat, and her hips were pleasantly stalwart, giving way to enticingly, voluptuous legs.
Even her toes were strong, long and lush.
So were her fingers, but they were a little more toned and defined. There is beauty in many forms. And I'm one of those lucky bastards that doesn't have a 'type'.
She crossed the room and climbed onto the bed, unaware of the way she had my blood warming. I fluffed up the extra pillow and she leaned back against the headboard beside me. I went back to the menu hit start and turned the volume up a bit.
During the first episode, with both of us reciting our favorite lines, she unconciously, casually, made herself a bit more comfortable. She settled lower. Her head made itself a home on my shoulder. Her stutter seemed to fade as the show went on. And when I noticed that, I also realized, she hadn't stuttered once when she was reciting the lines.
The wind outside slowly picked up in frequency, Sporadic rushes flexed the glass. The pressure all around us started to change. Mist formed patterns on the window. The air cooled. It started to rain.
She twisted and stretched and I straightened out my arm. She rolled over a bit and curled into my chest. Her right leg, pressed easily over my thigh. My arm found its way around her back and over hers. My hand came to rest against her wrist.
At the beginning of the second, two of my fingers stroked down her lower arm. She shivered and I felt her skin go bumpy.
"Was that me or the cold?"
"Mmmaybe a bbit of Bboth."
I hit the pause icon, "Close your eyes."
She gave me a look, studied me, then closed them tight. I slid from under the covers, got out of bed, grabbed her comforter, covered her with it, then made my way back to my side, and jostled under the sheets. She pulled the comforter over both of us. I hit play and continued the show.
When the second episode came to a close, I got a flick, a nudge. I asked her if she wanted to see the pictures from the night before. She anxiously agreed. I started ACDSee, pulled up the photo folder and hit the view button. When we got to the ones that I had shot of her, she looked at me, and a smile hinted across her face. She asked if she could have copies, so I put them onto a cd and gave it to her. She placed it on the night stand and settled back onto me.
"You know, you haven't stuttered for close to an hour now."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Somewhere near the end of episode one it started to mellow. It was almost gone by the time that Mal brought the medicine…"
(Spoiler Alert Check: needed, above nineteen. You rolled: a two, add Prof Mod: negative two?… Seriously? Work on your stats. Sheesh)
She smiled but stayed quiet. Studying her memories, recalling our conversation, putting together clues.
I kissed the top of her head. I don't know why. It just felt like the right thing to do at that moment. Like someone had put their fingers in my hair and gave me direction. And then scratched me behind the ear and said 'good boy'.
If I had a tail you'd have heard a thump, thump, thump.
She sighed, curled in closer pulling me tight. She was warm. So warm I could feel it make it's way into my marrow.
Funny, the things you remember.
You could hear the leaves rustling with a slow build. Then quiet. A flash of light. A faraway thunder. More quiet. Another breezy chord. A screech. Raindrops. Heavy sprays against the glass.
Her voice broke through the cacophony, resonating through my chest. "Can I get under the covers with you?"
"You can. Want to hand me my shorts?"
"Nnhnhn."
Then, as if to even things up a little, she took off her tank top and climbed under the sheets. Nuzzling against me like this was her spot.
Her body was soft, firm and calm. Her hair smelled like honey with a touch of green apple. She quietly hushed out a comfortable breath, then softly drifted. Her head nested under my chin. There was a short sigh of contentment. The cool trickle of what felt like a single moist droplet settled against my skin. Her breathing went steady and slow.
I took her glasses off the top of her head, put them on the night stand, and watched her dream. Until this world slipped away from me, too. And the one she was already in, pulled me to it.