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MORENA

 

Morena

 

TRAVIS

 

TRAVIS

 

GEORGE

 

George




Author's Chapter Notes:

Morena & Travis bump into each other and share the weirdest 5 minutes.

 

WARNING!!!

Hello!

So, this is my very first time writing here and I must warn you:  English is not my first language so you’re bound to find some mistakes. I apologize for them. I try my best to make this stories perfect, but sometimes I miss a thing or two (or ten).

But, I love writing and I have a million ideas in my head just waiting to come to life. I would love to hear back from you. Tell me if you love it, and please, if you hate it, tell me why as well. I have to know what needs fixing. Hope you like it!

 




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


MORENA

 

The phone was ringing. George’s ringtone sound waves floated around his flat. I really loved him. He was my best friend. But I really didn’t want to pick it up. Whatever reason he had to be calling me tonight at this hour, I was sure I wouldn’t like it.


“George,” I said when I answered, “Please tell me you’re not calling me to say I’ll be required to leave the comfort of your sofa. Please?


He kept trying to make me go to parties filled with people I didn’t like. So I figured he could only be calling me for two reasons (since he knew well enough how much I loved having friday nights to myself):


One: There was this party he wanted me to go to.


Two: He needed a favor.


“Mo.” I could tell option two was the right one by the tone of his voice. “I need you to save my life.”


Yes. Option two alright.


“Yes?” I asked, trying my very best not to let my annoyance seep through the phone and reach him.


He sighed loudly. I could hear dozens of busy voices in the background.


“I forgot one of my chests, and I really need it and-”


“And you were wondering If I may be so kind and bring it to you?” I completed his request for him.


He let out another sigh.


“Could you? Oh, Mo, I’m so sorry. I know how you love your old lady friday nights, but I wouldn’t dare ask you if I didn’t really need it.” Gee’s voice was full of apologies.


I suddenly felt terribly mean.


“Oh, Gee, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I can do this for you.” I managed to sound completely casual, even joyful when I spoke. “Where is it?”


“My room. Top shelf. It’s a big black chest. Hard to miss.”


I was already walking to his room.


“I see it.” I said, pulling a chair to stand on so I could reach the damn chest. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.” I mentally cursed him for being so tall, and myself for being so short.


“Take a cab! I’ll pay!” George said quickly.


“I was leaning more towards the subway, but alright, George.” I loved the subway and he knew it, but he had this protective big brother switch on. And he said the subway was home for perverts.


I heard him blow a breath of dismissal to my preferences in transportation.


“Call me when you’re near.”


“Ok.”


“Love you, Mo.”


“Love you too, Gee.”  And I hang up.


Sometimes George could be a pain, just like any other little brother can be, I suppose. We had been best friends for over twenty years.


We were nine years old when George and his mother moved in  next door to my mom and I in our little neighborhood in Ipswich. My father had just died three months before. All the boys in our neighborhood teased him and ran after him yelling ‘fag’ until he’d climb up the highest tree he could find. The stupid boys would be barking at him like he was a cat hiding up a tree.


He walked around wearing his mother’s eyeliner and looked like a miniature of Boy George. I was this little skinny girl with big, voluminous hair. The difference between us was that the boys knew better than to mess with me. The only few times they’d tried I’d punched one of them, kicked the other and made a third one cry by telling him the kind of mean things only children can. So one day I decided to help George by going to his tree holding a heavy tree branch which I threatened to use to bash the boys’s heads in if they didn’t leave George alone.


From that day on we were inseparable. Our mothers quickly became friends too, and soon enough we were spending holidays together and being more of a family than most people who share the same DNA.


When the time came, I went to college and George moved to New York to pursue his dream of becoming a makeup artist. His leap of faith paid out, just as I knew it would.


Now, thirteen years after he moved here, he was a partner at this big successful beauty salon, and every year he was one of the makeup artists summoned for the New York Fashion Week. Which was where I was headed to now. To take him his damn makeup chest he had forgotten.


I didn’t plan on staying, and even if I were, nobody would notice little me among all those inhumanly beautiful models. So I didn’t bother changing clothes. My stay-on-the-couch-on-friday-night’s t-shirt dress would have to do it. I found my flip flops, my shoulder bag and left, locking Gee’s apartment door behind me.


Out in the street the weather was wonderful. It was the middle of the summer and the air of the night was begging me to walk all  the way from SoHo to the Lincoln Center, but George was in a hurry and he would throw a fit if he knew I was walking the streets at night, alone, and wearing such a flimsy excuse for clothes. So I summoned the taxi he absolutely was going to pay for.


“The Lincoln Center, please. As fast as you can, sir. It’ an emergency.” I lied -horribly- to the cabbie.


The man grunted and then turned his attention fully to his driving.


New York was fantastic. I loved the city. It was so full of all kinds of people and  there was so much culture and places to go, things to see, food to eat, but I had so little time to myself.


I had been postponing taking a break from work and studying since forever. I had just finished getting a PhD degree in Art History, when my professor in London found me a teaching position in NY, I didn’t think twice before taking it.


So, three months ago I left home and moved to NY, in with George at his insistence, until I could get a place of my own. I taught eight hours a day everyday of the week. Friday nights were reserved for me. For reading, HBO series binge-watching, sleeping, and just being home doing nothing.


George was always at a party, or out on a date with some handsome bloke, or doing anything that required him leaving the apartment. We spent all the time we could together, but George knew me as well as anyone ever would. He knew I always needed this time that was only mine, and he selflessly gave it to me every friday night. Therefore, I was sure he genuinely felt very guilty calling me to ask for this favor on my Friday night. I was determined to be nice and not be such a cranky bitch, since he was the one saving my life by letting me stay at his apartment for three whole months while putting up with my temper.


I texted him when the car drove by Hell’s Kitchen.


Be there in five.


When the cab stopped on the sidewalk by the Lincoln Center, Gee sprang to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the steps of the stairs and opened the door for me.


“Thank fuck you’re here!” He uttered in greeting as he helped me out of the cab and hugged me quickly.


He paid the cabbie and was dragging me up the stairs before I could say I didn’t mean to stay. I figured I could endure staying and looking at half naked male models for about fifteen minutes before telling Gee I had to go without him making me feel like I was a bad friend for not staying more.


The Lincoln Center was one of the first places Gee had taken me to visit when I first arrived in NY. I loved that fountain in the center of the square. At night it was even better, with the lights illuminating it and the water making it look ethereal and unreal as if by stepping inside you could be transported to another world.


But George would not stop, not even for me to catch a breath. We entered the building to our left and I had to force my legs to walk to the pace of his long ones, and as a result I was almost running.


“Slow down, will you?” I pulled his hand and he turned to look at me, wide eyed as if suddenly remembering I was there too.


He turned and pressed a button to summon the lift, then he turned his face to me again and engulfed me in a bear hug.


“I’m sorry, Mo! I have this girl with half her hair undone waiting for me!”


George was awfully tall. 6’ tall, when I was 5’3’’, so whenever he hugged me I disappeared inside his big arms. He pulled away and looked at me with those puppy dog hazel eyes of his.


“Are you mad I interrupted your old lady night?” He asked, expressing real concern over me being mad at him, but teasing me at the same time.


He was always saying I was an 80 year old grandma trapped in a 30 year old’s body.


I rolled my eyes at him.


“Noooo.” I was a shitty liar. But then again I wasn’t mad. Just annoyed.


“Right.”


The elevator arrived and we stepped in.


Inside Gee eyed me head to toe not hiding his disapproval.


“You couldn’t bother to change, dear?”


He picked the sleeve of my mauve t-shirt dress between his thumb and his index finger and let it go as if he were holding a frog.


I looked down at myself. The dress stopped mid thighs and there was a little hole in the hem. I loved that old piece of rag.


I shrugged.


“None of this pretty people will notice me. I’m too little and obscure to be noticed by them. And besides,” I added quickly when George’s mouth opened to protest. “I won’t stay long.”


Gee opened his mouth again and I held a hand up to him.


I couldn’t let him turn that into a discussion. He always won those and I just didn’t want to stay because after this there would be a fucking party full of models and fashion people and I shuddered just thinking about it.


“I will stay awhile. Half and hour. No more.” I hoped he settled for that.


Gee raised his copper eyebrows and then lowered them again. He pouted like a child and I laughed. We were so very different from each other. His hair was fiery red and wavy, where mine was black and curly. He was tall, I was short. He loved fashion and parties, I loved museums and books. His skin was pale and freckled, and mine was milk chocolate brown with hints of gold.


“Why are you looking at me funny? Did you finally found out you’ve always been secretly in love with me?” Gee asked, smiling despite trying not to.


I laughed even more and faked a disgusted face.


The elevator's doors opened and Gee threw an arm over my shoulder as we walked out.


“Eww. I would never. Imagine our children! I would never dilute your genes. The world needs more gingers.” I joked walking alongside him through the elevator’s hall.


The scene that opened itself before me when we turned a left was pure chaos. There were people running everywhere. Half naked models, and fully dressed nervous people running back and forth with loads and more loads of clothes in their arms. Everywhere you looked you saw the most exotic and beautiful people, men and women, trying on all kinds of weird, colorful clothes, fashion assistants yelling at each other, cameras flashing...It all made me dizzy.


Gee lead me to a wall lined with mirrors and about twenty people were working their brushes on some models face. The makeup station reserved for him was at the far corner of the wall, the last chair to the right, where a tall black girl was sitting and waiting, looking at her phone when we arrived.


“Sorry, my dear. I just needed to get this!” Gee set his big makeup chest on his station and apologized to the girl who smiled at him and waved her hand dismissively. “This is my sister, Morena.”


I stepped forward and said “Hello” to the girl who couldn’t hide her surprise when she saw me.


Gee always told people I was his sister. Of course people knew I couldn’t be once they saw me, but most of them didn’t have the guts to actually ask any of us whether I really was. Usually I didn’t explain the situation to anyone. For all intents and purposes I was his sister. We just didn’t share the same DNA, but he was my little brother. Six months younger.


“We grew up together.” I told the girl, deciding I liked her. “We’ve been best friends forever.” I smiled affectionately at Gee and he back at me.


Since his station was the last one on a long line of makeup artists, there was a little space where I could sit by the edge of it.  I sat, with my back pressed to the cold mirror and my feet dangling in the air while I watched Gee work his magic on the girl’s face and hair.


She was absolutely stunning. A mix of african, indian and something else I couldn’t put my finger on. I wondered to myself where they found such gorgeous, exotic looking people. Not that the girl needed Gee to make her pretty, but he was a genius with his makeup brushes and palettes. I would know, being his subject for most of our teen years.


During the week Gee and I made a point of spending as much time as we could together. We had all meals together. Breakfast at home, lunch at some restaurant midway between his work and mine, and we always had dinner at home or at the chinese place by the corner. Weekends were the only time we didn’t spend together. Saturday mornings I’d be home sleeping in, and he’d be going to bed in some bloke's apartment after parting late. Sundays were strictly reserved for his hangovers and whatever paper or research I’d have to work on for class next day. Still we had lots to talk about whenever we were together. He was the one person I could talk to about anything.


The girl had left and now he was applying concealer to the face of a man so handsome I couldn’t stop staring at him and thinking ‘when did men evolve to be so damn good looking?’ when George shifted the conversation to his favourite topic.


“When are you going to get yourself a man, Morena?”


The Adonis on Gee’s chair couldn’t stop his lips from quirking up into an amused smile. Who could blame him, he didn’t ask to hear such stupid conversation.


“George!” I scolded him.


“What?” He stopped with a hand on his hip and the other holding a contouring brush. “Look, Mo, you’re super smart, you’re sexy, you’re beautiful, you’re-”


“Oooh! Perfect me!” I said with a mocking tone.


“Really, Mo?” Now Gee assumed that attitude he always did when he thought I was diminishing myself, which I personally don’t think I’ve ever done.


“George, please don’t start. My self esteem is great.” And it really was. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me. I didn’t feel like changing anything, I didn’t compare myself to anyone and though myself inferior. Not even here, surrounded by gorgeous, tall and perfect women. I liked who I was. Most importantly I accepted who I was and loved the body I lived in. I loved my curly, wild hair, loved that I was little, but had my own grace, and I thought I was doing pretty fine as a human being too. “I’m just not looking for anyone right now. I’m fine. I don’t need a man.”


Gee scoffed.


“You might not need a man, but you need sex. You’re grumpier by the day.”


This time the handsome model laughed shyly, but audibly. I darted him an incredulous look, but then laughed too. It was more a bitter laugh than anything else. Gee was right. I really needed sex. I’ve been the only one giving me orgasms for a while now.


“I’m just saying,” Gee went on. “You’re too great a woman to still be single. And I know for a fact you’ve had your fair share of admirers. You’re just too picky.”


“What?” I croaked.


“It’s either that or you’re gay too.” He said, then he stopped what he was doing in the man’s face and turned to me. “Are you?” He asked with seriousness.


I gaped at him and laughed a real laugh this time.


“No, George. I’m not gay. I just-” I said with an annoyed exhale, not sure of how I could explain myself. “I couldn’t bear to be someone’s passing fancy, to be used for some man’s pleasure and then discarded, you see? I’m past my twenties already. I’m not saying I want a Disney Prince, you know I’m not a great romantic, but even if it’s just sex, I need to be wanted, really wanted, not just have my body lusted after. Do you understand?”


Actually, what I wanted was a man that could make me want him madly, and who could give me orgasms, for fuck’s sake. I wasn’t picky, but I also wasn’t about to go around shagging anyone. The problem was, I hardly met a man who I genuinely felt attracted to.


Gee sighed, defeated. “Yes. I understand you. I just worry about you, Mo. That’s all.”


It bothered me to my bones that Gee would worry so much over the fact I was single. Actually everybody just worried too much about it. My mother’s theories included homosexuality or a secret love for George, when the truth was I just didn’t want to give myself to any prick who could get his hands on me.


“I’m fine, Gee.” That was my line that said ‘This conversation is over’.


Gee didn’t have anything to say after that and an awkward silence settled in. So when I saw a window of opportunity to go I told Gee I was sleepy and was going back home.


“When will you be back? Tomorrow or Sunday?” I asked, just so I knew not to worry about him.


“Not sure, yet. I’ll text you.” He replied, not taking his concentrated eyes from  his work on the Adonis looking model.


I jumped to the ground and smoothed the fabric of my dress over my ass. I hugged and kissed Gee goodbye and made my way to the elevator’s hall.


A little voice in the back of my mind knew George was right. I was 32 years old and I’ve only had one serious boyfriend my whole life and that had been seven years ago. As bad an experience as that had been, I’ve had enough time to heal, but my walls were still up. And so far no one willing to climb it had come along.


I had just pressed the button to call the lift when I heard a voice call.


“Hey!”


I turned to my left and a bright, flashing light blinded me.


“What the bloody-” And the light flashed again.


I turned my back to it and rubbed my eyes, the white light still flashing strongly behind my closed eyelids. There was another click behind my back.


Was that the click and flashing of a camera? Had some prick just taken my picture?


I tried opening  my eyes and I saw nothing  but white light.


On my back I felt the soft warmth of someone else’s body close to mine. I could swear I almost felt a touch in my hair.


“I’m so sorry.” A masculine voice said behind me, close enough that I could feel the man’s breath on my shoulder.


I turned and stepped back, away from him. I opened my eyes and panicked  because I still couldn’t see a thing.


“God, I’m really sorry. I couldn’t resist it.” The way he spoke made me think he really was sorry.


Deprived of vision, my ears were super alert and I registered somewhere in the back of my mind how grave and sexy the man’s voice was. I berated myself at the thought.


The man almost blinds you and you’re thinking he sounds sexy!


Once again, I rubbed my eyes, and tried opening them. I could see something now. I blinked several times.


His chest. His broad chest.


I looked up, really very upwards, until my neck hurt.


Gradually my vision was getting better.


His smile was the first thing I saw clearly. Perfectly white and straight teeth with large and thin masculine lips curved over them. He was smiling widely down at me.


Why is he smiling at me like that?


He had a beard, just a tad blonder than his hair which was long, I guessed, considering he had one of those man buns I thought were so ridiculous. I moved my eyes up, going over a straight aristocratic nose and I met the most striking pair of blue eyes I have ever seen in my life, their corners wrinkled, affected by his smile.


My mouth was hanging open, I was sure of it.


It was unnerving  how clear blue his eyes were. He had absolutely wonderful eyes. I felt naked looking  at them. He had those uncanny eyes that can make you feel like all of your secrets are written on your face, clear as day for him to see.


His smile was still there, directed at me. He looked dumb by the way he smiled at me, as if he’d just found some forgotten money in the pockets of his jeans. Slowly his blue eyes moved down to my lips.


The little hairs on my arms stood up at once. A shiver worked its way down my spine. I took a deep breath and felt my hard nipples straining under my bra. I ran my hands up and down my arms and forced myself out of whatever was happening to me.


“Were you trying to blind me?” I asked the man, not being very nice.


He shook his head slowly.


“No.” He answered, still smiling.


I lifted my eyebrows and tilted my chin up looking at him and expecting him to explain what the hell he was doing, or who the fuck he was, or why was he smiling down at me that way. But he didn’t say anything else, he just stood there with that smile and I looked away, afraid of the feeling creeping inside me.


Why do I like his smile so much?


I felt his smile like a physical weigh on me. It prickled my skin. I tilted my head back and glanced to the side with the corner of my eyes. Sure enough, he was still smiling.


Taking the courage, I turned my whole face to him and somehow his smile got wider, showing more of his symmetrical teeth. His eyes flickered with something...amazement maybe? Amazement by what? Me?


Don’t be ridiculous, Morena!


“Are your cheeks hurting yet?” I asked him, not believing he could stand smiling so widely for much longer before his facial muscles exhausted.


He chuckled.


“No.” He answered me monosyllabically again.


“Alright.” I decided he was retarded and turned to the elevator waiting for the doors to finally open and give me a chance to run.


“You are exquisitely beautiful, you know that?”


I turned my neck his direction so fast I heard my neck vertebrae crack.


“Excuse me?” I wasn’t sure I heard him right.


His full stupid grin morphed into a crooked smile.


“You’re beautiful.” He said, as if that were the most simple thing in the world.


I stared at him stupefied while he just smiled.


The elevator’s doors were open, just waiting  for me to get in so it could take me away from him. For some reason I had trouble deciding whether to stay or go.


Just go already! Go! Get in! What would you stay for?


“I have to go.” I pointed to the elevator, making my decision.


He looked like bad news. What kind of idiot goes around smiling like that at women he doesn’t know? A Don Juan maybe. It was smarter to run from him.


I stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button and waited for the doors that didn’t seem to know I needed them to close fast. Not too subtly, I risked looking at him and he just...smiled.


We stood staring at each other. Me inside the elevator, him outside waiting for  the doors to close. That was the end of my meeting with a strange, handsome weirdo. I felt a sting of some emotion I didn’t want to name. Relief was supposed to be the feeling dominating me, but it wasn’t.


Finally, the doors started to close. I fixed my eyes on his. That’s it? He came running after me, taking my picture and smiling stupidly like that to just let me go now, without saying anything other than ‘No’ and ‘You’re beautiful’?


When the gap between the sliding doors was too slim for me to see him I sighed unhappily and looked down at my feet. I concentrated on the little hole in the hem of my dress. George was right. I should have worn something nicer.


There was a cringed mechanical noise and I looked up to see his hand forcing the doors open again. I watched as he stepped in beside me. I opened my mouth to ask ‘What are you doing?’ but promptly snapped it shut gain, afraid of his answer.


We stood quietly and I felt his warmth, emanating from him in waves that hit me.


Elevators have a thing about them. An awkwardness. You’re standing there ultra self conscious. You know that the other person is thinking of you, and you’re thinking of them.


Even without looking at him I knew he was looking at me and still smiling. I felt it.

I risked a quick glance his direction and sure enough, he was smiling down at me.


“You’re truly very beautiful.” He said when I lowered my head again.


Jesus. I could have been naked considering the way he was making me feel.


A rush of blood warmed my cheeks. That was the third time he’d said that. What was the matter with this person? I should be scared. Maybe he was a pervert or a sexual maniac. He was way too handsome a man. I doubted he had to try very hard to make women fall under his spell. I bet just those eyes did it. Nevermind the wheat golden hair, the ridiculous roman bone structure, and those lips...


“Thank you,” was the only thing I could think to say -awkwardly- back to him.


The atmosphere was tense and awkward. Why was beyond me, but the sexual tension I felt made it hard to breath.


I heard him clear his throat.


“What’s your name?” He asked.


The question stunned me. I was beginning to think his vocabulary was strictly narrow.


“Shouldn’t you have asked me that before taking my photograph without my permission?” I said, glancing from his face to the camera hanging on his neck.


He laughed and I liked the sound too much. More than I should have.


“I’m sorry. I’ve told you I’m sorry. But really, it was your fault.”


What?


He really was insane.


“Excuse me?” What the fuck did he mean by that? My fault?


He lifted a corner of his mouth.


“Well, you can’t just walk around looking like that and not expect me to take a picture of you.”


I opened my mouth, but my first instinct was to laugh, so I clamped it shut again, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Instead I let out a breath, faking annoyance, when really I was beginning to feel too flattered for my own good.


He shifted on his feet and I could feel he was preparing to say something so I decided to put an end to the whole thing, I didn’t like the way he was making me feel. Too warm and giddy inside.


“Look, Mr-”


“Travis.” He cut me off, offering what I supposed was his name. “Travis Keegan.”


He extended his open hand to me.


There it was, an excuse for me to touch him. I was afraid to, though. What if it felt the I way I feared it did? What if I liked the way it would feel?


I took his hand. I half expect to be electrocuted, the way people say it happens to them in movies or melodramatic romantic novels. Instead I felt heat that went up my arm and pooled in between my legs, slick and moist.


He drew circles on the skin on the back of my hand with his thumb. I shivered lightly. Those blue eyes of his stared into mine with way more intensity than I knew how to handle.


The elevator doors opened with a ‘ping’ noise and saved me from throwing myself into his arms. I just needed to get away from this man.


I tried to pull my hand from his grasp, but he didn’t let me go and just tightened his hold on it. His other hand came on top of mine.


“Tell me your name.” He whispered, and I shivered again. His hooded blue eyes seemed to shine even more.


My name was on the tip of my tongue, ready to be offered to him, but I didn’t say it.


No.


It was too dangerous to give him my name. He’d have too much of me if he knew my name. He already had my picture, and I was sure he’d have a good amount of my thoughts from now on. My name was too much to ask. Too much for me to give.


Once again, the elevator doors started to slide towards each other, and doing the opposite, I slip my hand from his and rushed out, sliding away from him, almost running towards the building exit.


I didn’t look back. I didn’t dare to. I just walk away, breaking into a run down the stairs.


I stopped in the sidewalk and bent down with my hands on my knees, breathing hard. My lungs were strong. I was a keen runner, so I knew that little running session wasn’t the reason for my shortness of breath. No. It was how affected I was by the way I had affected him.


What the fuck had just happened?


Travis Keegan. The smiling man.


I jumped inside the first taxi I stopped and sagged  in the car’s leather seat. When I closed my eyes, his eyes were what I saw. Blue like the ocean, leaving me wet and moldable like the waves did to the sand.



***


TRAVIS


I woke up with the noon light hitting my face like a slap.


Wake up, you fucker.


I rubbed my eyes and stretched lazily on my bed. My hand landed on a something hard and round, like a head. Lifting my sheets I found a naked blond sleeping beside me.


Oh, right. Last night.


NYFW was always hell. I worked like a dog, then went to some party and came back home with a leggy model. It was the same ritual every year. Work, party, drink, sex. But then in the morning came the hangover. And the guilt.


Careful not to wake the woman up, I slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror was hard to look at. I looked like shit. Purple heavy smudges stained the pale skin under my eyes. My skin was actually paler today than usual. I could see the blue little veins under it. Scratching my beard I opened the cabinet. Inside I found some ibuprofen and swallowed two pills dryly, with no water. The pills stuck in my throat and I coughed hard, forcing them down. A cold shower was probably all I needed to feel better.


I turned on the shower and I let the cold water cascade over my face and hoped that it could wash away all of me. I knew water wouldn’t clean me, however.


Thirty minutes later, I was physically clean and walking towards the lump under my sheets.


“Hey, sweetheart.” I shook her shoulder lightly. She didn’t move.


I tried again, this time not so gently.


“Hey! Wake up, darling.”


This time she moved and moaned, but then fell quiet again.


I ran a hand over my face summoning some patience. Today wasn’t a day I had time to be a gentleman.


Usually I made them breakfast, talked some, told them they were beautiful and that the sex had been great, and hoped they had nice lives. But today I had a shit ton of work to do, and the only reason this girl was here this morning was because last night I had been too drunk and lonely to turn her down when she, literally, threw her panties at my face. Deep down they hoped sleeping with me would somehow catapult their careers. What they didn’t know was that Travis Keegan The Famous Fashion Photographer was actually Travis Keegan The Greatest Shit That’s Ever Lived.


“Hey...uh...You...uh….” I didn’t remember her name. Fuck, maybe I didn’t even know it.


The girl was asleep like the dead. It was past 1 p.m. already. I had to go or else I’d be late. Depleted of time or patience I pulled the sheets off the bed and revealed miles of legs and skin. She finally woke up.


“Hmm, it is morning?” She had a foreign accent, I didn’t even remember that. Her voice was heavy with forced sexiness.


“It’s 1 p.m.” I said gravelly. “Look, I’m have this thing I’m late for. Can you get dressed?”


In the back of my mind I knew I was being an asshole, but I just wanted to get rid of her.


She pulled herself up to her knees and moved towards the edge of the bed, where I was standing. Tentatively, she wrapped her longs arms around my neck.


“Maybe I don’t go so soon.” Her breath rinked of stale alcohol and I winced.


Her face fell and I suddenly felt like the great shit I was. I forced my lips into a smile that I hoped looked genuine enough. Last night I needed her to fill a void. Now I needed her to be gone.


“Get dressed and I’ll buy you some coffee by the corner cafe.” I said in a failed attempt to make amends for my asshole behaviour.


The girl slid her arms from my neck and snaked them around herself covering her breasts in a defensive move. I hated when they did that. It made me feel like a bastard and them like victims when they knew well enough what they were in for when they accepted to come home with me.


Women come to me like flies. They say they like me because I’m complicated. Most of them seem to think they can fix me if they just try hard enough. The thing is, I’m fucked up and I don’t want any fixing. I just want to fuck them and forget I exist while I’m inside them.


Fifteen minutes later I was already walking  to the subway by myself. She didn’t even accepted the coffee. She left as if she couldn't  run from  me fast enough. Who could blame her?


I was suppose to meet my brother, Max, for lunch an hour ago. When I turned the corner in the street of the restaurant I saw him walking out of it.


“Max!” I yelled after him, already running towards him. “Hey! Max!”


He stopped and turned. Even from afar I could see the disappointment in his face.


“Hey, Maxie.” I said breathlessly when I reached him.


Max sighed and ran a hand over his perfectly arranged blond hair.


“Travis.” He greeted me not bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice.


“I’m sorry, man. I woke up and there was this girl. I came as-”


Max held up a hand and I stopped talking.


“There’s no need to explain yourself, Travis. I already know how it goes.” He turned his back to me and then turned back again, chuckling. “Look, I love you, bro. But I just can’t do this anymore. When you’ve grown up you should call mom. She misses you.”


And with that he walked away from me. I just stood there. I had nothing to say. What could I say? It was all my fault. Always my fault.


***


My gig was over. I was hired to do the photographing of the collection of this big shot designer and since that was done I was ready to go home before someone could invite me to some party I would regret going to.


I sat on some dark corner near the makeup area to gather my gear and leave when I heard her. I heard her laugh. It was a heartfelt, genuine laugh among all that meaningless noise.


My eyes began searching for her.


Laugh again. I thought. Laugh so I can find you.


And she did.


The moment I heard her laughter I spotted her, by the far corner of the makeup stands, talking to George.


The air got stuck inside my lungs. She was many feet away from me, but I was afraid to breathe too loudly so that she’d hear me and see I was no good and run.


She was so beautiful the word wasn’t enough to describe her. She was beautiful in the classical meaning of the word. Not languid and sexy like most of the girls around us, but soft and natural. There was this intrinsic elegance that clung to her like moisture to a cup of ice water.


She was beautiful just being herself. I have never seen a woman look so real. She was sitting there with her back pressed to the mirror wall, her legs crossed and her hair a glorious mane of soft curls framing her heart-shaped face, stopping a few inches below her shoulders.


I was too far. I needed to get closer to her.


Taking my Nikon I got up to my feet and crossed the room to Stella’s makeup station, three stations away from George’s, away from her.


How come I’ve never seen her before?


“Travis.” Stella greeted me.


“Stella.” I greeted her back. “Can I hang here for a minute?” I asked her, not looking at her, but already positioning myself where I could have a perfect view of her through my lens.


I used the zoom of my camera to focus her face and see her better.


Jesus, she was just fucking gorgeous.


At first, I zoomed in her lips. Plump and perfectly symmetrical. Her nose was small and the tip pointed upwards, giving her a self assured air. But her eyes were the best part. Slightly slanted, their color was unbelievable. Hazelnut, mostly light brown with hints of green, surrounded by lashes so long they looked fake. The contrast between her light eyes and dark skin was mesmerizing.


She was listening attentively to something george was saying to her. She furrowed her brows. Whatever it was he said, she didn’t seem to like it.


“Travis.”


With an automatic motion I turned my head at the sound of my name, but my eyes were still on her over my camera.


“Travis!”


I was forced to look when Stella called me a second time.


“Yes!” I snapped at her, and realized I had sounded rude. “Sorry.” I added lamely, but was secretly bothered she had forced me to look away from her.


Stella didn’t seem to mind my tone or my apologie. She glanced to her left and then knowingly back at me.


“She’s George’s sister. She just moved here.” She said, obviously understanding my interest. I sure wasn’t hiding it.


George’s sister?


Now I knew something about her.


They didn’t look anything alike. She was black, he was ginger. Maybe she was adopted? Or maybe it was one of those crazy genetic mysteries. Both their eyes were hazelnut, though his had more green than hers.


Dismissing my theories about her heritage I turned to look at her again, but to my despair, she was no longer there. I panicked. I put my camera down and started looking around.


I searched for about thirty seconds before deciding I had no time to waste. So I went to the most trustworthy source of her whereabouts.


“Oh, hello, handsome! What-” George began.


“Where is she, George?” I blurted out, cutting him off.


He shrugged, looking confused.


“That woman. The one who was sitting right here a second ago!” I explained, pointing to where she’d been sitting against the mirror. There was a smudge there, where her skin had touched. “Where is she?”


“Mo?!” George asked, still at a loss.


Mo? What was that? Her name?


“Yes. Mo! Where is she?!” I asked again with urgency.


God, just fucking tell me already.


“She just left-”


I was running to the elevator’s hallway, to where he had pointed, before George had even finished his sentence.


Right enough, there she was. Standing with her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot on the floor, impatiently waiting for the elevator. She was wearing some t-shirt long enough to cover half her thighs. It was some dusty rose color, it matched her skin with perfection.


My Nikon was in front of my face and I was focusing my lens on her, yelling for her attention almost unaware of myself. It was something I had learned with my profession; whenever I saw beauty I photographed it. And she was beauty itself.


“Hey!” I called.


She was maybe ten feet away from me, and she turned, giving me a perfect view of her face. I clicked a button and the camera flashed.


“What the bloody-”


I heard her start to speak, but the second click and flashing of my camera made her turn her back to me.


I wanted a third picture, a fourth, as many as I could take. Unable to resist, I took another one, of her back.


By the movements of her arms I could see she was rubbing her eyes. I had momentarily blinded her with my flash.


What the fuck are you doing, man?


As stupid as I knew it was, I walked towards her. The scent of vanilla instantly engulfed me. Temptation crept up my spine and twirled around my fingers urging them to bury themselves in her hair. My hand was in the air, an inch away from touching her soft curls but I refrained myself and instead I apologized.


“I’m so sorry.” I said.


Immediately, she turned around and stepped back with her eyes still closed. She opened them, and an expression of panic loomed over her face, before she shut them again.


“God, I’m really sorry. I couldn’t resist it.” I apologized again, needing desperately for her to know it wasn’t my fault. It was hers. I just couldn't help myself.


Again, she rubbed her eyes and her eyelids flew open. Up close the beauty of her eyes was even more striking. She blinked those impossibly long  lashes. The skin of my cheeks tensed with the wide grin that split my face in half. Slowly, her eyes went up from my chest to my neck, and then to my face. She stopped, eyes fixed on my stupid smile.


I didn’t know this woman. I had -unfortunately- never seen her before, but I could tell she wasn’t happy with me. She had the most expressive eyes, as if it weren’t enough for them to be so beautiful.


A crease appeared in her forehead. She looked puzzled. Her eyes moved farther up and they met mine, and her reaction made me held in a breath.


She blinked a couple of times and her mouth hanged open. Her entire face softened, and she pulled a lip inside her mouth with her teeth. I’m sure she didn’t even notice she did that. It just made me want to press her to the nearest wall and kiss her.


I couldn’t for the life of me stop smiling at her. She was exquisite. Truly a beautiful woman, probably in her late twenties, and not very tall at all. She had to tilt her head back to look at me. I would have to bend myself to kiss her…


She ran her hands up and down her arms like she was cold and I had the urge to hug her and warm her with my body.


“Were you trying to blind me?” She asked, clearly bothered.


I took me a second to process she had just talked to me. She had an accent, just like George’s. It was delicious to hear her talk.


I shook my head, not believing how affected I felt by her.


“No.”


My brain was mush while I looked at her, so I couldn’t elaborate my answer. How could I explain to this woman that what I actually meant was that I wanted to save her image, to be able to look at it for as long as I had the ability to see? She’d think I was insane, if she didn’t already.


She tilted her chin up, eyeing me with a comic, scrutinizing look. I’m sure I looked like an idiot, but I was just amazed by how beautiful she was. She wouldn’t fit any beauty standard to a T, but you’d have to be insane to say she wasn’t pretty. No, not pretty. Beautiful.


Everyday I photograph all kinds of women. Throughout my career I must have photographed thousands. But none of them had that magic to them, that invisible magnet that drew me to her.


She kept looking at me with the corner of her eyes. I didn’t know whether she was just plain curious or if she was watching me to make sure I wouldn’t attack her or something. I couldn’t read her.


“Are you cheeks hurting yet?” She asked, turning her entire perfect face at me.


The corners of my mouth could touch my ears with the smile she elicited in me.


“No.” I answered, again not elaborating. My brain was empty, except for her in there.


“Alright.” She said suspiciously lowering her head.


I guess she really did think I was retarded. But I really liked the way she looked at me. Her eyes were full on reservation, but held some curiosity too. Of course she couldn’t know what she was doing to me and I didn’t have the guts or the ability to explain it. I didn’t know what it was, but I just had to look at her.


In another one of those nervous ticks, her hand went up to her ear and she put a mass of curls behind her ear. I have never been so jealous of a hand or an ear. Her skin looked so soft I could kill a man just to have a chance to touch it.


Looking up I saw that the elevator had arrived to our floor and I knew I had to say something before she ran.


“You are exquisitely beautiful, you know that?” I told her exactly when the elevator doors opened with a ‘ping’.


She turned to me with wide eyes.


“What?” She croaked.


Wether she didn’t hear me or just wanted me to repeat myself, I couldn’t tell. So I just said it again.


“You’re beautiful.”  


She looked back and forth between me and the opened elevator with bewilderment like she had to make a choice. Stay with the insane man or run from him?


“I have to go.” She said, pointing to the elevator.


She probably decided in favor of me being insane and was trying to run away.


I watched fascinated as she stepped inside, leaned in to press a button and waited. They way she oscillated on her feet told me she couldn’t wait to be away from me. She was smart, then.


She risked a glance my way and I just smiled back at her.


I felt insane. I was chasing a woman I didn’t know, and kept smiling at her like a creep. Of any reaction I could have, smiling was the only thing I could do while looking at her.


The doors started to close. I watched immobile as my view of her narrowed. Her hazel eyes were fixed on me with an unreadable expression. It was like they dared me.


Do something!


My subconsciousness convinced me she didn’t want to leave me. When the doors were almost closed, and I couldn’t see her anymore, it hit me. Don’t let her go. Not yet. My hand slid in the one inch gap and stopped the doors from closing completely. They cringed and reopened.


Her eyes had been glued to her feet, but then she looked up startled. I stepped in beside her and her head followed my movements. She opened her mouth, but quickly shut it again, turning her face to the closing doors. The elevator started its descend and then it was just the two of us, alone in that compact iron box. Her smell was all over the place, overwhelming me.


She gave me a furtive look and I just kept smiling and smiling at her. Then again, I said,


“You’re truly very beautiful.”  


She didn’t look at me, but I saw her eyebrow shot up in surprise, and I think I saw her cheeks flush under her brown skin. But I couldn’t tell for sure.


“Thank you.” She said carefully, only briefly turning to me.


I chuckled nervously. Her tone was that one women assume when they don’t care for your flatteries and you’re about to be blown off.


Fuck. I was scaring her away.


I cleared my throat and compelled myself to behave like a proper human being.


“What’s your name?” I asked her.


George had called her Mo. I wanted -needed- to know what Mo stood for.


She turned her heart-shaped face to me wearing a stunned expression. She bend her head down, shaking it slightly before looking up.


“Shouldn’t you have asked me that before taking my photograph without my permission?” She darted a suggestive look at my camera.


She was a spunky one.


I laughed.


“I’m sorry. I’ve told you I’m sorry. But really, it was your fault.”


“Excuse me?” She scoffed.


I laughed of the expression of pure indignation on her face.


“Well, you can’t just walk around looking like that and not expect me to take a picture of you.” I accused her.


She meant to say something, but when she opened her mouth only a breath of annoyance came out.


I was teasing her when I was supposed to be charming her. But her expressions when she got mad were to die for.


“Look, Mr-” She began.


“Travis.” I interrupted her. “Travis Keegan.” I introduced myself, offering her my hand.


She hesitated. I could almost hear the ticking of her brain, trying to decide whether to take my hand or refuse me. The way she looked at me left no room for doubts. She thought I was a crazy man.


But I needed to get at least her name before the doors opened and she ran from me. With her name I could find her again.


Deciding in my favor, she put her hand in mine. I caressed the back of her hand with my thumb. I could swear I felt her shiver. The skin there was incredibly soft. My imagination took control of the situation when I wondered if her whole body would be that soft.


Something surged up my spine, and then it came down again, reaching my groin.


Damn.


If I got a hard on now, then she was sure to run for the hills screaming and I would never see her again. For some reason that thought scared me.


The doors opened with another ‘ping’. I had completely forgotten where we were.


I felt her pull her hand from mine, but I held hers tighter and put my other hand atop our joined ones.


“Tell me your name.” It was a whisper. A plea.


Her lips parted and I could almost hear her saying it, but then the damned doors started to close again and she jumped startled, slipping her hand off of mine and rushing out the doors before they could close.


I meant to run after her, but changed my mind. I just stood there watching her hair flying behind her as she all but ran from me. Before the doors closed completely I took another shot of her. And then the doors closed and she was gone.


What the fuck are you doing, Travis?


I didn’t even know her name.


Mo? Mo what?


There was a song playing in the background. Bossa Nova or Jazz. Classical elevator soundtrack. I had been so focused on her I hadn’t noticed the song. It was a Frank Sinatra song I think. I remembered listening to it in my father’s old records. It was one of his favourites.


Dindi.


That was the name of the song.


Dindi.


‘If I only had words I would say all the beautiful things that I see when you’re with me. Oh, my Dindi…’


Except she was gone, and I was left speechless with that nagging feeling I had just let something precious slip through my fingers.


***

 






Chapter End Notes:

Part 2 coming soon!







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.