Conversations ✔

Happy Ties.

"When's your birthday?" She asked him, or he asked her, the memory was vague that night. The marijuana in her system made the memories foggy.

Opting to create her own from whatever she had to work with, he replied first.

"First of the last month. However, I have two."

She raised an eyebrow, she has heard this one before.

"Two?"

He smiled, "Yes, two birthdays. One on the fourth month. ID number fucked by the system."

Realisation dawned on her, yes. She has heard this one before.

"Which one do you celebrate?" And the answer never came. Remember? Foggy memory?

Her bed was providing great warmth against the harsh weather. She was high off her mind, not remembering how she even got home that day.

Later after some weeks, "Your birthday came early this year. I have a gift." She said grinning ear to ear. She has been meaning to finish it and hand it over to the rightful owner.

"Oh yes it did! It was just last week!" He exclaimed.

Last week? "I thought your birthday was on the last month of the year." She says this still fishing out whatever she has for him.

"I told you, I have two."

Right!
And as her fingers grasped onto something, her smile grew, so did his curiosity.

"Taa-daa!" She handed it over with an expectant smile, nervous for his reaction.

"Whoa!" Was his first reaction, but he really wasn't blown away, was he?

"Wow, this is beautiful!" He continued, and she loved the reaction.

"Yeah?" She grinned, still unsure.

"Yeah!" He assured, and continued to examine the gift. So simple, yet not. Took a lot of effort to finish, considering her unstable state of mind and emotions.

How much can a heart take? When feelings change like phases of the moon?
She wondered these song lyrics, unable to take her eyes off of him.

Her mind took her elsewhere.

Ropes, cuffs, gags...

In a darkly illuminated room, she felt something wake up within her. The futile defiance, all an act to earn a certain harshness from him. Selfishly satisfying her desires, unbeknownst to him.

A wet dream...

"You look horrible." He commented, pulling off his shirt.

She knew she did, but that didn't stop the words from causing a sting in her eyes.

Her shallow breaths could be heard as she watched him approach her, slowly with hands in his pockets.

She loved the hate she felt towards that. Those hands were supposed to be on her, anywhere. Fingers in her warm mouth, on her throat, chest, waist, ass, anywhere. But on her, not in the damn pockets.

Her smart mouth was gagged though, so all she could do was scrunch her forehead in anger and defiance and make groaning sounds.

Fucking touch me, she meant.

"I can't hear you." He mused, whispering in her ear, knowing very well how sensitive it was to his voice, seeking a reaction. And a reaction he got. The sound that escaped her gagged mouth was deliciously sending shivers down her own spine, or was it the cause itself? She couldn't tell if she was enjoying the torture or not. She was just loving everything.

She craved his touch, those hands had to move, that tongue had to do something else besides pissing her off.

He took a deep breath, and the sound had her senses go on high alert. What was he thinking? What was he planning?

"Mmmmh, I should just find a chair and sit over there. Watch you, maybe read a book while at it." He chuckled in a low tone, and her heart skipped a few beats.

He wants to what now?

"Oo." She said through the gag, but they both knew she meant, no.

"Awww, why? You look like fine art. Deserving of being a model. I should get a camera."

That was it, the end of yet another conversation she wished occurred. She realised, soon, these would easily blend in with her reality. She was even beginning to bring up things from her day dreams into their actual conversations.

She needed help.

Alina Baraz's Alone With You was playing on her loud earphones, planting ideas that only she could hear.
She watched him converse, interacting with other people, and found something comforting about it. He was generally a good conversationalist. His laugh that stopped abruptly at times was more fascinating though. Undeniably.

She wasn't listening on what they were saying, and for the first time, she wished she had the ability to sketch faces, portraits. He would make a good muse. He actually was a muse, in other ways she could indulge herself.

And as her thoughts took her to last night, moments before she fell asleep, she focused on the happiness she felt then.

Happy times in her mind. Happy ties in her mouth.

______________________________________