by Richard Bentley
We were arguing about something, but who can remember. She kept wiggling her finger under my chin.
“Listen, sweetheart,” she said, “I can get away from you anytime I want. You better get that straight. I can leave anytime. I can go back to work. We’re only together because…because I felt sorry for you. Sitting at the bar. Remember?”
I remembered. I did.
“Hey, come on,” I said. “Come on, baby. Don’t be angry. Don’t go. I’m sorry I called you those names. I was hot. I was angry. I was crazy. Just stay with me, okay?”
I sat on the bed watching her as she carefully applied her makeup at the mirror over the mantelpiece. She was tall and long-legged and graceful as always, with a firm, tight ass that made you ache. She had plump little tits, and her dark hair hung down to her shoulders. This evening, she had chosen to wear a narrow black skirt and a peach-colored blouse.
She finished up with her eyes and began moving the lipstick slowly along each full lip. Then she pouted, so that one lip could caress the other.
When she’d finished, her lips glistened. She put all her implements back into their plastic case and snapped it shut. She continued to stand at the mirror, nodding her face slowly up and down. Then she stopped, and that’s when I realized she knew I’d been watching her in all the silence. Her shoulders shook slightly, and at last she turned around quickly with a look of tough bravery.
“I’m going back to work, Charlie,” she said.
She was a proud and lovely girl, and I didn’t want to think about the stranger she would pick up at the bar, who’d have her for money before the night was over.
I stood up. “Hey, come on,” I said. “Come on, baby, don’t cry.” What else could I do but turn her around and take her in my arms until she was still?
Category: SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student