Monday, September 26, 2016

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 9

Lying Through Her Fangs
Scene Nine

Xylia P.O.V.
Hael walked me to the entrance nearest my car. Then, as I turned to say goodbye, guilt slammed into me like a football player. How could I play the part of a puppet master by making someone jump through all these hoops just for my own vanity? A human being a meal was a use on a small scale as things go but this was taking over a good chunk of a stranger’s life. Looking at this gorgeous and kind man, I couldn’t justify being that self-absorbed and greedy.
“We need to talk. I think I’ve made a mistake.” A trio of people dodged around my still form as I stood by the doorway.
“What did I do? We were just okay not three minutes ago.” Hael looked as puzzled as I felt.
“This isn’t the place. Walk me to my car.” I led the way to my sedan and I heaved a sigh of relief when I noticed not many cars parked around it.
I clicked the fob for the doors to automatically open and slid into the driver’s seat without even looking to see if he was coming around the other side. Once in, I took a few moments in the hopes that would make this easier, but it didn’t.
The car lowered when his weight was added to the seat beside me. I opened my eyes and looked at him once he stopped moving in the passenger seat.
“Is this where you say it’s not you, it’s me?” Hael asked before the words had gathered in my head.
That was better than the breath exercise but not by much.
“Yes and let me tell you why.” Then I paused. Where the hell do I start in this scenario?
He slumped into the leather upholstery. “It can’t be that you’re afraid of me. You just invited me to sit in your car.”
“Point to you.” I stated flatly. He was right on the fact that I had invited him in my car but he didn’t know that he should be the one afraid. I leaned my head against the head rest for a moment. “I’m not afraid. It’s so complicated that the right descriptions elude me.”
“Okay, we’ll baby step it and see if it all makes sense.” He calmly ran his fingers over the dustless dash of my car.
“Steps, well, let’s see.” I had a hard time keeping eye contact all of a sudden so I looked at my nails on the steering wheel.
“I’m alone in my life. I work and then I go home except for work related night events or the days I go to the local bar to unwind.”
“You’re an alcoholic?” He offered in a soft tone.
“I drink but I don’t have an actual drinking problem.”
“Most alcoholics don’t think they have a problem.”
Yes, I have a drinking problem but it’s for blood and not spirits.
No way in hell was I saying that when I was about to rip the compulsion away. It would be a waste of words that were already hard to form in my boggled mind of guilt.
“Wrong start, back to being alone.”
“Okay, you’ve established that you’re independent and a workaholic. Is that fair?”
“Yes but after many years of being like this, my friends and coworkers all wonder if I’m turning into the cliché of being a crazy old cat lady. Literally.”
“So you’ve had enough of the comments and want to bring someone in to shut them all up.”
“Exactly but it’s all a freaking lie!” My hands smacked the steering wheel.
“Not if you are actually dating someone, it’s not. You just made it happen instead of it being a natural thing. What’s the problem with that?”
            “Seriously, I’m making you rework any plans you may have and shoe horning my way in for my own benefit. That’s just plain wrong.” I met his eyes and he seemed so calm. How could he be this blasé about the whole thing? Was he normally this way or was it due to my compulsion being in the elevator?
“Not if I allow it.”
“I’m making you do this. You had a life of your own until I clotheslined you in the store. You can’t deny that.”
“I’m still a consenting adult.”
“Not when I compelled you to be accepting of my plan. Once that happened, you lost all rights to your own persona as long as it interferes with my agenda.”
“You asked and I agreed. Seems simple to me.”
“Because I took your free will away from you!” Damn, I was frustrated with this nonsense.
“Whatever. You said what you wanted and I am going along for the ride so why not just fly with it?”
“Ugh, how can you tell me it’s fine when I made it so you couldn’t be anything BUT fine with it?”
He shrugged and I didn’t know if I wanted to shake him or kiss him. Was this what it was like for other people? Of course not because I’m a freaking blood sucker and a wimp.
I counted to ten and then took the only action that my guilt would allow me.
“Hael,” he met my gaze. “You have your free will and don’t have to go out with me. In fact, you can forget any of this if you want. You’re a sexy hot man that I’d love to have met under other circumstances but I just can’t do this to you. I can’t be selfish and step into your life like I belong there. You’re a great guy and I appreciate you putting up with my insanity.”
Then I blinked the power away.
“You can go about your night, Hael.” I patted the hand he had on his left thigh and wished I was doing the right thing.
“Alright and know that this will all look better after a night of sleep. Try to have a great night.” He answered before he got out of the car.
Once he walked back into the mall, I hit the speed dial on my phone.
“Christianna, I bombed out at the mall. Hit up whoever you have at the escort agency and give me a call later when you have a moment.”

May the odds be in my favor.
)))Corset Hugs(((
Ginny Lynn
Wench Writer

Monday, September 19, 2016

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 8

Lying Through Her Fangs
Scene 8

“Look at me, Hael.” I felt the cold of her hand on mine.
I turned to face her in the elevator door as it closed on the store, then her eyes dilated like a deer caught in flight. Her voice changed. I have no word for it other than power, like when your boss enters the boardroom. The sounds have meaning and purpose to them, instead of flirts or barbs.
“Listen to my voice and hear my wishes. I need a fake boyfriend for an event and I’ve chosen you. You’ll do as I ask and my friends and coworkers will never be the wiser. I won’t hurt you and you’ll have a wonderful time. As a matter of fact, you won’t even remember this discussion when we part ways in the next two weeks. Do you understand?”
That cut things to the point. You expected games and teases when you met up with a woman. I was unsure of how to take that so I hid my insecurity and pushed my mind forward.
Was this an exotic woman who was crazy cool or simply crazy in the head? She didn’t act like the latter so my gut was to stick with her and see where this leads me. What could it hurt? Just looking at her was enough to stir my molasses-in-January libido. She was tall for a woman but looked like a lithe Bond girl with her mesmerizing gaze, hypnotic voice, and graceful curves. Her long hair was chocolate wave across her shoulders and her legs seemed to go for miles in her linen slacks. If she wore a short skirt, the sight might kill a man.
I mirrored the serious tone in her statement. “Yes, Xylia. It’ll be my honor to escort you.”
She shook herself slightly, like changing mental gears mid-sentence just as the doors opened on the bottom floor.
“After you, my dear.” I waved her in front of me.
And the view was worth it. This is why men chose chivalry, because women always walked in front of us. Besides, gawking is tacky.
There was something about the way she held herself that reinforced my gut feeling that she was no psycho lady in disguise. My instincts rarely led me astray.
“Would you like to go to the food court and grab something? It gives us some time to talk a little more.”
She considered it for a moment.
“Unless you’d like a more intimate restaurant?” Had I insulted her with my idea for fast food when I just wanted to be around her a few more moments?
“How about the diner?” she asked.
“Perfect.” The white and red of the corner restaurant had vinyl seats and fake jukeboxes on every table. It made you want to order a malt, just for nostalgia’s sake.
We walked side by side most of the way and my surprise was when we were seated she didn’t hesitate to place her order.
“I’ll have a water, a rare cheeseburger, and a strawberry shake.” All was brisk but accompanied by a warm smile.
She was high class, but a man loved a woman who knew what she wanted. If she liked camping and beer then she’d be a God send. But based on what I knew so far, I’d bet she was more the glass of wine by her fireplace type.
Then the waitress got my attention, “Yes. I’ll have a root beer and a mushroom cheeseburger with fries.” Staying active in the fresh air gave me the right to eat junk food on occasion.
“So, what do you do, Hael?” She asked after the waitress left.
Here we go, the how much do you make topic. Will she ask what kind of car I drive and where I went to college, too?
Keeping my eyes from rolling, I answered. “I own my own landscaping company that does anything from pools to private gardens.” I stated flatly.
“That explains how you look so healthy and tan.”
“Same question to you,” I said as her frothy shake arrived with our burgers.
“I’m an accountant at the main blood bank for Atlanta.” A small smile graced her lips.
My surprise must have shown on my face. She chuckled before she bit into her cheeseburger.
“You must get that reaction all the time as it seems that you’re more cover girl model than an accountant.”
“It shocks everyone. Let’s just say that I’m not the typical downtown Atlanta kind of girl.”
“I guess you’ll tell me all the interesting facts about yourself as we progress forward?” I asked her as she neatly ate the messy burger.
“That will happen from time to time.” She quietly laughed. “Tell me more.”
“I’m an only child, love seeing things being created, live in Dunwoody, adore animals and kids. I’ve never been married but came close once after college. No baggage there other than being careful not to have a woman with a roving eye. My bad habits are staying up way too late, being a workaholic, and being a loner.”
“Interesting. I live in Decatur, am independent but I do have a few close friends in my life. My job causes me to have to go to benefits and functions when I’d rather be in the office looking at ways to help the community. Bad habits, hmm. I don’t do mornings and work a later shift at my job. No marriages and I never even came close. My parents passed away before they could even try to set me up with someone, as was their custom.”
“I’m sorry about your parents. I’m guessing you’re from over seas,” I offered while I accepted a drink refill from the waitress.
“It was long ago and I’m settled with it. Yes, they were Algerian, so that was normal for them but I’ve remained stubbornly single.”
They discussed a few details about their jobs while they finished the meal.
I stepped in when she asked what her portion of the tab was. “I’ve got it,”
“We just met. You’re not buying my lunch,” she replied.
“You can simply owe me, especially if we’re going to be seeing each other again.” I snatched the bill up and handed it to the waitress staring at us.
“So it’s like that?” The gleam in her dark eyes was a warm challenge.
I bent over the table and was just inches from her nose when I playfully replied. “It’s just like that.”
There was a look of doubt in her eyes as she held my gaze, like she had something she wanted to say.
“What?” I asked, waiting for her to tell me she had rethought the situation.
“Nothing.” She looked away and fumbled with her phone before we got up from the table.
“I’m good. Here’s my number and I’ll text you on us meeting up to get our outfits together.”
“Because I wouldn’t have a suit or tuxedo, right?” I saved her umber in my phone and had her do the same with mine.
            “Do I apologize for my wrong assumption?” She asked as she stood up from the table.
“None needed and yes, I have a suit but no tux. I’m guessing I’ll need one?”
She nodded solemnly at me. “And as it’s my event that you’re attending, I pay for the trimmings. Can you handle that?”
“So, it’s like that?”
“It is,” she answered with a smirk on her lovely face.
My gut just telegraphed a message that I’d be dumb to pass this up . I may not believe in true love but lust and friendship were obtainable. Who needed love when you had happiness and a hot woman wanting your attention?
“I’m at your disposal.”
)))Corset Hugs(((
Ginny Lynn
Wench Writer

Monday, September 12, 2016

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 7

Lying Through Her Fangs
Scene Seven

Long legs were encased in straight leg jeans and dusty maroon colored Henley that was stretched over an impressive chest. His hair was a wavy mass of caramel tinged brown as the curls moved over his broad shoulders. He looked like a German model for sports cars or specialty brewed beer. A strong jaw with a couple days’ stubble attracted my attention next as I worked my way up to his intensely dark eyes.
We stepped in and out of each other’s way for a minute then both laughed at our antics.
“Apparently, we’re meant to dance, you and I.”
How more perfect could he have said it?
“It would seem so, my name is Xylia Natouri,” I offered my hand to him.
His big one captured mine in more of a grasp then of the handshake I had intended.
“Hael, Hael Braunner. It’s interesting meeting you.” He quipped back.
Where was he headed with that line?
“Since it wasn’t a pleasure being knocked, it was certainly interesting? Too many people say to have a nice day or ask how someone is doing but do they really mean it.”
“Rhetorical phrases and simply niceties, are in everyone’s day, I would gather,” I answered. He still had my hand and the warmth of it seemed to spread up my arm. What would it be like for him to hold me with those muscular arms? I suddenly wanted to know.
“But if you want your words to be meaningful then replace them with something more fitting to each individual scenario.”
Curious. Flipping through his aura, I picked up only positive vibes and colors ranging from ease to stability in himself. This made me feel more at ease after the last guy.
“You’ve given me something to consider. I appreciate that.”
I was pondering all sorts of things right now and one of them was to see if his butt was as impressive as the rest of him.
“Always happy to help a lovely lady. Shopping for a male friend?”
Looking down to where he nodded, I saw the bagged shirt still in my grasp. Having completely forgotten that I hadn’t put it back, I glanced at the rich color and decided the rich eggplant color would look great with my skin.
“No, I’m here for myself.”
“Ah, a woman in a man’s shirt is a powerful thing.” He eyed the shirt, then me.
“You know what’s even better?”
“What would that be?” His curiosity was piqued.
“A woman just as powerful out of that man’s shirt.”
“Indeed.” He was quiet for a moment. “You do realize that I’m allowed very few decent comments are that line, right?”
He hadn’t gone for the easy pickup line after that and I added points for him not being sleazy.
“Xylia, are you window shopping or planning for a trip?”
What if I said, I’ve come to compel you, let me see your rear?
Best not. Yet.
“That must mean an event coming up and you have nothing to wear.”
“You’re astute for a man. Most wouldn’t even broach that subject.”
“My man card is secure. I’m here because a nail went into my shoe and they have to be replaced before it rains again. The mall is less uncomfortable than squishy socks.”
“Your poor sole,” I joked.
“I’m lucky the nail was short or I wouldn’t have been able to dance with you at all.”
“Care to help me choose something?” He asked bashfully.
“You want my help?”
“Sure, unless you have something better to do. If so, I’m sorry for holding you up.”
The honest enjoyment in his gaze had me answering, “Actually, I’ve got some time to spare. Take me to your shoes, dear cobbler.”
“This way.” He pointed out the sign above us that showed the way to the shoe department.
As I thought, his glutes were mighty maximus.
The mens’ shoe department was in a smaller corner and I didn’t even bother to look at the people we were passing as I focused on the hunky male specimen in front of me. We perused the shelves and found three pairs for him to try on. All were loafers in rich shades of brown but comfort was what he was searching for. The first pair caused a cute moment as we both reached for the exact pair at the same time. Our fingers almost locked around the display pair.
“This is the one I want to take home. They’re lovely to stare at and feel like they were made for me.”
“Be still my beating heart, a man who appreciates shoes,” I joked.
“Your mistake is thinking I was truly talking about the loafers.” He wagged his eyebrows as me as he impersonated Groucho Marx.
“You have me there,” I laughed.
“Do I?”
“Good question.”
“I’ll be honest and say that I’m trying not to overthink this. So forgive my awkward slips of the tongue.”
“So far, there’s nothing to forgive. I find your efforts refreshing.”
“Then maybe I should apologize for men who use only clichés and ill-timed punchlines when vying for your attention.”
“That apology is accepted.”
He gave a fake bow after giving the clerk his shoes to ring up and I realized my time was running out. The mall would be closing soon and I still had to feed. Looking around, I saw my opportunity.
“Let’s take the elevator downstairs and see what they have in housewares.”
“What do you need down there?” He looked lost for a moment.
I floundered for something that would get him in the secluded walls of the elevator.
“Toasters. I have a thing about toasted buns.”
Putting my hand in the crook of his arm, I directed him to the elevator while no one was standing by.
“After you.” He waved me before him.
By the time he got in, my gaze started. My right hand laid briefly on his left as it held his shopping bag.
“Look at me, Hael.”
He stared into my eyes and didn’t move as I closed the door to outsiders.
“Listen to my voice and hear my wishes. I need a fake boyfriend for an event and I’ve chosen you. You’ll do as I ask and my friends and coworkers will never be the wiser. I won’t hurt you and you’ll have a wonderful time. As a matter of fact, you won’t even remember this discussion when we part ways in the next two weeks. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Xylia. It’ll be my honor to escort you.”
Leaving the compulsion within him, the doors opened to the first floor where we looked at crockpots, iron skillets, and toaster ovens.

But by the time I purchased the purple shirt I’d been carrying for an hour, the guilt laid on my conscience worse than the skillet would have landed on my head. What the hell had I done?
)))Corset Hugs(((
Ginny Lynn
Wench Writer

Monday, September 5, 2016

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 6

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene 6

Here’s hoping the mall would be better. Wait, did I just say that? I’m so not a teen heading for the perfect Twilight movie premier outfit. This is a trip by a grown woman window shopping for a man who’s probably better off with a store mannequin. But I took what was left of her coffee and headed to the land of kiosks and hormone driven wallets.
I hid at the back of the mall at dusk, by the copse of trees, was the safest place to park on an overcast day in Atlanta. As I left my heavily tinted SUV there, my equally tinted sunglasses went with me. I entered the largest department store at this mall put me in the men’s department--the best location for men to shop and disappear before they got anywhere near the throb of humanity. Men had it easy. Most of us women had to strut through cosmetics and perfumes to get to the lingerie section. By then you carried the ambiance of a street walker coming in for fishnets and garter belts.
Standing in the middle of the aisle between business and casual, I fought for which to “shop” through first. Gentlemen in suits and ties were elegant and Bond-like but most were posturing peacocks. Men in casual attire were more my style, though I didn’t exactly get sweaty over a cowboy in a Stetson ad. My likes lay in the middle and I was being stared at while I stood flipping between styles.
There were a few men eyeing me over racks, but I pretended to be looking at the rainbow of wrinkle free dress shirts in front of me. Having no idea what a size fifteen was in these things, I flipped through to make it appear like I knew what I was doing.
“Looking for a particular size or color?” asked a voice behind me. The voice belonged to a tall brunette standing just outside my personal space.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I in your way?”
“Yes and no.”
“Which is it?” My eyes sized him up and this was worth a moment of my time.
“Yes, you’re in the way but no, I don’t happen to mind.” He flashed a smile.
It couldn’t be this easy. No way.
“I can get out of your way, then?” I swiveled but his words stopped me.
 “Why, when I have an excuse to reach around you like this?” His left arm snaked out and grabbed a light blue shirt from the metal rack by my face. Then he did the same with his right hand on my other side. “Or this.”
The second hand held a sage green that matched the tight polo shirt he currently had on over strategically ripped jeans.
“Is that what you came for?” I asked as I made great eye contact with him, daring him onward..
He looked at both and then at me. “Oh darn, wrong sizes.”
He slipped them back in their appropriate slots simultaneously, and reached further down. He was positioned at my waist with both hands and came back slowly with a burgundy and a bright red.
I tilted me head over my shoulder to take in the selection again.
“Those aren’t the same colors. What shades do you need?”
“Oh, you’re right. These would look better on you.”
He copied the previous maneuver then slipped his hands to each side of my hips to the lower rack. This had him leaning far enough into me that we were staring into each other’s eyes. This was prime for a kiss, a bite, or compulsion but I waited to see what the suave man with light brown eyes and perfect teeth would do as his next trick.
“Hmmm, black and classic white. You could never go wrong there. Right, my dear?”
Hovering there, in my face. I could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. No racing. Shouldn’t the beat be more up tempo if I was exciting him? This wasn’t right. Most guys like this were usually—

“Gary, what the hell are you doing?” A shrill voice interrupted my thoughts. “I send you in here for a shirt for the wedding and you try to pick up some hoochie in the meantime.”
“White or black, Darla dear?” He whipped, with inhuman speed, to face the banshee coming at him.
“Excuse me?” She stopped within two steps of us.
I wanted to back up but my escape would have taken the rack with it.
“This lady was just helping me with what shirt, dearest. She thought the black but I told her you always liked me in white as it was more retro to set off your classic clothing style.”
He put on puppy dog eyes for me to go along with this and I was sorely tempted to tell him he was the one trying to make a sale. But I didn’t want ...  why does she go along with it? Tell us. Especially after the “older lady” bit.
“Quite true. In fact, I almost tipped the display over and he had to reach for me. He’s quite a man. You’re a lucky lady.”
Darla’s pinched face looked like she was deciding whether to buy this line. She had her hands full with this one and I wasn’t sure who I felt sorry for more.
“Did you get the right size, sir?”
He had to look at it twice to make sure. “Yes, indeed. Thanks and be careful.”
She humphed at me, tucked her arm in his, then sashayed her man out of the department, all the while complaining about her fluffy, pink, bridesmaid’s dress.
And to think I imagined it would be easy. Nope, not that easy. Score one for the Old Cat Lady and zip for the Vampire Liar.
So long as I was at the mall anyway, I decided to find a dress for the party and headed to the women’s section. Work had been hellish the last few months and I hadn’t had time to shop anything other than online sales.
I took the last sip of my now room temperature frap, and turned for the waste basket. My arm hit a solid wall and bounced. Dropping the cup like a surprised mortal would, I looked up to see what folly I had just made in public. He was no folly. He was hot  with his boy next door charm mixed with romance cover model sex appeal. And I had just about clotheslined him in the juniors department.
“I’m so sorry.” Thank heavens it had been empty.
“No problem, I should have been looking where I was going.”
We both bent to get it and our eyes met. His heart cranked up. Hello hawtness, my name is Damsel and I’m in distress. Can you come save me?

)))Corset Hugs(((
Ginny Lynn
Wench Writer