04.21.06

j'etais trompee, j'ai envie d'il

The canned fake cheery smell began to swirl its way into the air as he slowly opened the taxi door. From in between its black and white panelling leaked artificial sweetener and the image of bright red sponges steeped in slick liquid. Red candy suckers. Plastic honeymoon glasses. Expanding and growing, pushing against the walls of the taxi until they rushed out towards me, bending around his body in a great scarlet stream.
As he rose, he towered over me and the great mane of his black hair framed his face. His eyes, his teeth, perfectly outlined against the blue of thee sky.
On his neck, I could smell sweat, excitement, that musky scent of cologne, alcohol evaporating. I told him he smelled of boy
He smiled.

shi-ou-sama at 5:03 p.m.

previous | next