July 30, 2010 - 7:50am — Fledermaus
Warning: Non-deer, language, mature themes
Day Two speeding along 66. The engine’s low continuous growl filled the space between slightly grainy songs and took the place of conversation as they had run out of things to talk about back in Amarillo. But silence was okay. Silence was comfortable.
Motes of dust and sand clouded the air whirring by the open window. His hand rested through the open window against the car’s hot black metal. The sun’s oppressiveness over the bleak dusty highway was slowly fading into a red-washed sky over the distant canyons. Its strong golden beams reached through the windows and gilded anything under its touch, filtering through the hair hanging over her shoulder as her face was turned to watch the landscape passing by. Her fingertips tapped sporadically in time with the music, softly, against the smooth skin of her leg with an air of dreamy absence. He found himself glancing over periodically, wondering if she knew through intuition or the reflection of her dark sunglasses that he would smile.
There was something nice about being uninhibited; free from the hard gray buildings and masses of human life that crowded the city, overbearing like a colony of bees. A venture out of the steady working week was long overdue and the warm rush of Midwestern air breathing over the sound of radio classics was the right kind of escape.
The car rolled to a stop on the road’s dusty shoulder for the purpose of getting out and stretching, taking in the full breadth of the fiery unclouded sky and the sliver of white moon hanging low in the East. She rummaged through a bag in the back seat while her lover leaned nonchalantly against the carefully polished front grill, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes distantly focused on nothing in particular. Probably thinking about cigarettes, she figured.
A freight truck rumbled by and she straightened up with a camera hanging loosely off her wrist. She rounded the front of the car and got away with snapping a shot the man, though met with an expression of heavy scrutiny after looking up from the viewfinder.
“Des told me to take pictures.” She justified coyly.
Some fiddling with the settings later and she edged in with him, their nominal but genuine smiles directed at the lens at arm’s length that took in them, the purring black car, the dying napalm sun and the long gray snaking highway.
Sometime after midnight their destination was reached, illuminated with a sun washed sign board proclaiming full color TVs and its bulb-studded red arrow pointing at the circa 60’s low flat motel. A lonely old building in a bygone roadside town, but until morning it would work.
The dark cover of night evoked a brisk downpour, slashing against the threadbare orange curtained glass. Pairs of rain-mottled red beacons slowed to a stop outside, waiting for no one at the wide intersection, before continuing on. No reason to stop here.
The door had barely been pulled shut behind them by the time his hands were sliding up the back of her shirt and running fervently over every raised scar that marred her skin; never believing they were flaws. She went along with it, looping her own fingers in his leather belt and tugging him close enough for their hips to touch.
Thunder rattled the grimy window in its frame but failed to subdue any sleep. He could only hear her hushed steady sighs, hot on his neck among the gentle pinch of teeth and soft lips; her senses immune to much more than the scratch of his cheek against hers and the thrilling pulse of ecstasy spreading through their bodies, from her rapidly beating heart to the tips of his roaming fingers. In a break of the rhythmic stirring, he whispered something to make her smile.
By the arrival of a new arid morning with the rain far gone, the car had already torn out of the half desolate town and hit the last stretch of road to the coast. She insisted on driving for the remainder and took over albeit under close supervision and the occasional remark about shifting too late and grinding the transmission. She rolled her eyes.
“If only you cared about everything as much as this fucking car.”
He jabbed her in the arm and she retaliated with a flick to the side of his head.
“Priorities.” He said plainly, teeth bared in a smirk.
California greeted them with a growing barrage of people. The atmosphere deviated greatly from home. Business class grays and navy blues were replaced with orange Bohemian flowered dresses, faceless clinical office industries were chic hand-painted storefronts. Every stop light prompted a glancing around, taking in the scene. Lunch was a hole-in-the-wall local joint before a walk around the area, talking about the culture and lighthearted laughing. She put up a weak resistance but got dragged along anyway to a grocery store parking lot devoted to a weekend car show. They perused but managed to leave before he roped in the keys to a red Firebird belonging to an anxious bald seller. He had to be led out with a firm grip around his wrist.
“Do I look like a goddamn dog to you?”
“Yeah, kinda.” She retorted. “You’re my bitch anyway.”
He grumbled something in response, probably returning the sentiment, while looking back at the lot.
The distant ocean came into view sometime in the later hours of the day after finally crossing the state and reaching the limits of land-bound San Francisco. The pleasant scent of salty Pacific air hit them at some point. It was hard to focus on unloading bags at the lodge with the glittering deep blue ocean in sight beyond steep valleys and nothing but a weatherworn wooden rail off the second floor balcony to hold back their captivation. There was only time to throw their things in the door before retreating impatiently down to the half mile wooden walkway that led through rocky outcrops and tall dune grasses straight to the open shore. The roaring drone of waves encased by distant black cliffs met them at the end, with gulls circling the air and fussing with shrill calls.
She took off her shoes upon reaching the sand and, after requesting he do the same but met only with refusal, wandered a few feet off towards the water, stopping just to watch the waves and feel the cool brackish wind whipping through her hair.
It was another quiet minute before he kicked off his worn black Chucks and maneuvered right up behind her, grabbed her around the middle and hauled the woman over his shoulder, as he liked to do, lunging towards the water with promises to toss her in while she fought and shouted various death threats and obscenities. He succeeded only in dropping her into a shallow outgoing wave, getting a stinging slap, and being tackled down into the wet sand himself while attempting to run off.
They were both too occupied with trying to pin the other down that the white foaming wave crashing in to wash over them came as an amusing shock. After some more scattered chases and shoves in the knee-deep churning water, the both of them stumbled back and collapsed on the sand, drenched and recovering from laughing until they couldn’t breathe.
The landscape spoke for them for a good few minutes. She shook her disheveled hair and he quietly buried his fingers in the cool sand.
“Thanks for driving our asses out here.” Her good natured tone was among the best things about her.
“Not a problem.” He said, absorbed in the skyline. “Wouldn’t have had anywhere to go if you didn’t plan it, though. You can probably take the credit for this one.” She caught his reassuring glance.
“Yeah, well. We had to get out of there sometime. Take a break, you know.”
“Mmhm.”
“And it’s pretty damn sweet out here anyway.”
“Yep.” He leaned back into the sand bank behind them. “Hell, I’m just glad I’m still around to see it.”
She didn’t know what to say to the comment, brow knit and looking downward, but he continued anyway without giving it a second thought.
“Christ, I’ve been stuck in one lousy city or another for- what- twenty years on now?” There was his grin again. “’Bout time for a little sun.”
“Except you’re too stupid to end up with anything but some splotchy farmer tan, probably. You don’t even know what shorts are.” He flipped a bit of sand up at her in response. The woman dusted off and stood up, pulling him up too after he lifted his hand in askance. She might have muttered “Lazy,” but he wasn’t sure. There was a wide smirk on her face all the same.
“Come on. Let’s head back and make fun of hippies or something.”
“Deal.”
They left the secluded beach as it was, grasping at the day's last light.
I was supposed to put this up
It was some sort of description on the roadtrip T/M ended up on that turned into an unneccesarily long tirade about hardly anything. I ended up focusing mostly on the way they get along with each other, which isn't a bad thing but I have no idea. They are too amusing/adorable half the time. c:
This offered some help.
agreed. They are
*runs off with them to make fun of hippies*
....
I am scared out of my life to
Forest FAQ
I love your writing. That was
BITCH. I LOVE YOU. I rate
I rate this over 9000 stars and what do I even do now I'm rolling around too much. WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS AGAIN I DON'T REMEMBER. Just let me worship the ground you walk on for a few days and we'll be good to go. B| UP HIGH.
[edit] oh and then I got bored so I reread it and now I'm going to illustrate like 900 different bits GOOOO.
Forest FAQ
OH YOU GUYS THANKS even