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Old 03-03-2014, 05:13 PM   #1
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Finding Alice (closed for Scuttle Buttin')

If Alice had to describe herself? Hard-working, dedicated, outgoing. A dancer in the rain type, a strong-willed modern warrior with bells on her toes. The world was a canvas, and she took the part of the loyal artist.

If others were to describe the young college student, perhaps the words petty, self-absorbed, and confident would come into the mix. Alice was twenty years old, a successful student so far, but still finding herself within the confusing bubble of parties, social meets and studying. Who at this age knew who they were? It wasn't something she had thought of much before, but college had thrown her into the faces of a variety of people. Despite keeping close to her tight-knit group of friends and keeping a brave face...Alice had never felt so uncertain in her life. It was exciting. Even after eighteen months of being enrolled, she was still not entirely used to the transfer from the immaturity of high school jabs to the much more adult interactions that college required. Luckily, Alice had learnt from the mistakes of others. Calm eyes surveyed stammering latecomers be caught and sent out, biting words from lecturers saved for those trying to sneak away from deadlines. That will not be me, she had said to herself. So far, her words had proven right. Alice was a good student. Dressed demurely during lecture hours, she earned good marks and never had a reason to be picked out of the crowd unless she was volunteering an answer.

Fiery red hair announced her arrival into a room even before the delicate tones of her voice did; eyes that glowed a soft amber brown complimented her palette, usually crinkling in one of her usual bright smiles, or perhaps a laugh she would hide behind a pale and slender hand. Alice enjoyed playing a room in the best way a socially-active young adult could; compared to most of her associates, it perhaps would be accurate to say she did remarkably well. It was still more of a stumble than a run, but it was progress for the naïve red-headed woman. A giggle punctuating the right parts in a conversation and a subtle compliment (or two) had earned her an evening job at one of the busy restaurants in the city centre - a nice uniform, good tips, a reason to keep herself looking smart from dawn to dusk. Alice had a lazy streak that was a struggle to fight unless she gave herself a reason, and her job gave her a reason to keep her applying that fresh coat of wet, red lipstick and beam smiles until her muscles were sore and aching.

Right now, Alice was sat across from someone she considered a close friend. Iris was meek, white-blonde hair wisping around her pale face; large-blue eyes becoming dramatic, dark blotches in comparison to the smooth contours of her skin. A pinched, pink mouth pouted now as she sipped at the dark coffee Alice had bought her, eyebrows skewed in her usual quizzical expression that she wore so often, she seemed permanently confused.

"So, are you? Or aren't you?"

"Do you have to label everything, Iris?" Alice sighed, rolling her eyes whilst donating a pitiful smile. "We're just having fun. It's not a big deal."

"But it is!" Iris insisted, her almost invisible eyebrows knitting together in a flash of irritation. "You know, this is the worst time to pick up a guy. Six months until exams, four months until overall coursework deadlines, not to mention work inbetween. And you have a job, Ali. You have to set boundaries, rul-"

Alice suddenly laughs, the sound of it cutting into Iris' words and slowly drifting them aside to quiet.

"It's fine, really. It's just casual. I'm not even sure if I like him..look, anyway. Let's talk about something else.."

"Fine. But first, I need to see a picture of this guy. I've not even met him yet."

Rolling her eyes despite herself, Alice reaches for the thin smartphone sitting in her jeans pocket, wiggling slightly in her seat to dislodge it from the tight material. Sliding the lock on the touchscreen, she deftly flicks through the phone's photo album, chewing on her lip as she finally picks a photo to show Iris, handing the phone over with a sly smile.

"Oh!...oh, he's not bad. Tall?" Iris inquired, tilting the phone left and right as she examines.

"Uhh..I don't know. I haven't asked, or measured." Alice shrugged. "Taller than me. So above 5'6? Maybe about 6'1. Sort of towering..."

The woman makes little humming noises of approval, finally nodding. "He's okay. I didn't expect you to go for such a stereotypical..muscle man though."

"As I said, I'm not so sure, alright?" Alice pretended to protest, although she was still more amused at Iris' indignation than anything else. "I've not had a serious relationship before, let me play."

The girls continued to giggle for a while longer, ordering another coffee whilst catching-up. Inbetween Alice's new evening job and a few deadlines in the last two weeks, they had hardly seen each other. The next month or so looked like they'd both have more flexible schedules and both made plans to meet in the next few days to make a good start on making the most of it before things tightened once more.

"It was good to catch up." Alice said an hour later, draining the last of her black coffee and leaning back. "This little café is really nice. I've never been here before..."

"It's only across the road from your restaurant, and you've never been here?" Iris exclaimed, flapping a hand at Alice as if to say now you're just being stupid. "Anyway, I have to run. Have you got work tonight?"

"Six until ten, so a short shift.."

"Alright. Well, you'll have to come out with us Friday night, okay? Just two days away. Chin up Ali. Don't over-work yourself!"

After settling the final bill, the two made a fuss about gathering coats and handbags from their seating area as they extended their goodbye as long as it could be. A perfume-soaked hug finally separated the two, Iris giving a final girlish wave before disappearing out of the café doors. Smiling hesitantly at the nearby waiter, Alice finally escaped after her into the chill of the outside. Back home then. Home was her parent's house, Alice choosing to stay there and commute rather than have a place of her own - although she commonly stayed at friend's places at the weekend for some space. Three siblings - two sisters and a brother - and over-bearing parents led to her keeping a lock on her door and investing in headphones rather than speakers. Checking her watch, Alice counted four hours until her shift - enough time to get home, freshen up, and perhaps an hour of mindlessly watching trash TV before making her way back into the city bustle. Exhaling harshly, Alice looked around before briskly ducking her way into the street crowds to make her way to the bus station.
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Old 03-04-2014, 04:40 PM   #2
Scuttle Buttin'
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How one finds themselves on the path they've taken through life always seemed an indecipherable mess of cause and effect, the Butterfly Effect writ large across their canvas of their time on earth. More often than not, it was a series of small, seemingly minor events that had the biggest impact, things that seemed insignificant so as to nearly escape notice. In a journey extended long enough, just an inch of change in direction could leave you standing somewhere you never expected to be.

So it was that Oliver Edison found himself sitting in a little cafe, alone, on a dark night held hostage by cold. At one point in his life, everything seemed perfect. A lovely wife, a beautiful home, friends and functions and regular, exciting, passionate sex. Clear skies, open waters, smooth sailing.

Then came the job proposal. More money, yes, but it also meant some time traveling. It would be hard, they both agreed, but worth it in the long run, another step up the career ladder, with bigger and better things waiting not far above. She promised she'd be fine on nights he was gone. A little meal, bed early, easy as could be.

Maybe you could join a book club, he'd told her, wanting to make this transition as easy as he could on her.

And what an idea! Hundreds of book clubs, and she walked into his. Robert 'just call me Rob!' goddamned Fox.

He was so funny!

He was so smart!

He was in his bed, in his wife, when Oliver came home a day early to surprise her. Curses were yelled, things were thrown, and in the end it was Oliver who found himself at a hotel for the night, lest he spend it behind bars. The divorce was quick and amicable, as much as could be in that sort of situation, but most of all he wanted to be rid of her. Her face was an ice pick in the heart, and watching whisper with that asshole as they waited in the courtroom filled him with a kind of anger he didn't know was possible. Legally, he gave her the house in exchange for two-thirds of their savings. After, he gave her their circle of friends as well, the thought of seeing the two of them together after making him want to set fire to her life and his.

The city they lived in wasn't large, and after running into them together three times in the following six months, he knew it was time to get out. It simply wasn't big enough for the three of them, and no amount of avoiding their favorite places from a life that no longer existed would solve that. He quit his job, broke the lease on the tiny apartment he had set up in, and left, laying down nearly two hundred miles of asphalt between them. His job experienced made things a little easier when it came to finding work, but it still stung to find himself nearly at the bottom as he headed towards his 42nd birthday.

Three months in, and he found himself growing bored, restless, and full of resentment. The idea of another night alone in his slightly-less-tiny apartment made him want to pull out his close-cropped salt and pepper hair. He had decided to walk instead, losing himself in the bustle of the city, listening to fragments of conversation as people passed by. Eventually the cold in the air found it's way into his bones, and he found his way into the little cafe for something to warm him.

He was two coffees in when the pair came in, girls probably half his age by the look of them. Perhaps it was the lamentation of his own tattered life that kept his tall frame folded in the seat, or maybe it was nothing more complex than the predilection for young, firm flesh that seemed to be ingrained in all men. Maybe it was neither, and instead it was a little ember of hate burning in his core at the promise their lives still held, untainted by a wife who had permenantly been branded with the name Bitch in his head. Whatever the cause, he sipped two more drinks while he sat in the corner, watching the two girls talk while completely unaware, as so many their age were, that they were being watched. In their minds, he mused, his seat was probably empty, somehow his age automatically rendered useless and irrelevant.

Eventually they were paying their bill, gathering their things, prepared to leave him and unknowingly send him on his own way home. Already he knew he'd be thinking of them later, sweet mouths and tight bodies put to good use in his mind as he stroked himself. He nearly missed it as he drained the last swallow from his cup of coffee, the slim black outline of the red head's phone left sitting on the table.

Forgotten. Such a careless girl.

Retrieving his wallet from the back pocket of the charcoal-colored trousers he wore, he dropped a couple of bills on the table and stood, shifting his torso to stretch his back as he did. He was waiting, buying time to make sure she'd not realize her mistake and come back in to catch him in the act. Time ticked by at a glacial pace, mere seconds passing by already he sensed it was too long and he could wait no longer. A man simply standing there would stick out more than he cared to right then.

The bathroom was needed - four coffees did that to a person - and it offered the perfect excuse to pass by the table. His fingers closed around the little device as he strode past, lifting it and slipping it into his pocket in one smooth motion. His heart thudded in his chest as he disappeared behind the door of the restroom, twisting the lock in the knob quickly.

Pressing the button that brought the screen to life, he slid his thumb across the glass panel to unlock it, and then stared at the icons that were presented to him. He'd had a smartphone for years now, just like seemingly everyone else in the world, but confronted with hers now, he felt like he had no idea how to work it.

The truth was perhaps more telling: he had no idea why he'd taken it.

He simultaneously hated the girl and wanted her, the thought of her supple flesh making his cock twitch even as her naivety sent bile into his throat. Conflicted, uncertain, he tapped the messaging icon in the hopes that he might find her mentioning plans to someone later so he could return the phone to her, the realization of his situation settling on him more with each passing moment. A man in his 40's did not steal a girl's phone and lock himself in the toilet with it. It was ridiculous on it's face.

With his thumb tapping quickly on the screen, he moved through conversation threads, catching sight of her meeting plan with the blonde girl who's name he discovered was Iris, a message to her mother saying she'd be home for a bit before work, and...

His eyes widened a bit, and he almost doubted what he was seeing. It was unmistakably her, the red hair gave her away more than anything else, and in the image of the mirror was the very same phone he held in his hands now. Neither were quite his focus, however, his eyes instantly drawn to the shape of her breasts, and the blushing grin she offered to the mirror. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he scrolled up to find two more pictures of the same variety, a young girl with a body worth flaunting happily doing so.

Standing there in the bathroom, the blueish glow of the phone's screen shining up on his face, he caught his reflection in the mirror and stared for a moment. Dark blue eyes moved over the crow's feet at the corner's of his eyes, the grey that had begun migrating into his hair, the shape of his body he found himself working harder and harder to maintain. Without a fortune he'd never know in his life, he'd never have a girl like this, he was certain. And yet, somehow, maybe karma was finally smiling on him. Giving him a break. It was time something worked out well for him, goddammit.

Turning his back to the mirror, he leaned against the sink and allowed himself another moment to stare at the image of her exposed body before he swiped it away. People kept their lives on their phones now, and he was ready to crawl into this girl's. Fuck her stupidity for taking pictures like that in the first place. Fuck her forgetfulness at leaving her phone behind. Fuck her for thinking everything would work out fine, as he had no doubt she did. Fuck... her.

He worked quickly now, with purpose, making his way through other conversations she had, through both her personal and college e-mail accounts, even into her bank account. She lived at home, went to the university nearby that, he thought with a terrible grin, would most certainly not be happy to see the conduct of one of their students, and best of all, she worked literally right across the street. Mere steps away from where he stood right now.

His own phone was pulled from pocket then, and joining the two together through their Bluetooth connection, he sent the pictures, as well as any others he found enticing, to his phone, and then uploaded them onto his Dropbox account. Copies and copies, on his phone and now accessible from virtually anywhere. Severing the connection, each phone was slid into a different pocket, and he left the bathroom. Gathering up his own coat, he thanked the waitress and stepped into the cold.

There was time to kill, a couples hours it seemed before the girl would be back and at work, and so he made his way home. For good measure, he sent the pictures to his own laptop as well, and took the time to program her number into his phone. Still with time left, he showered and changed his clothes, faded jeans and a grey sweater replacing his work attire. He'd stood in the shower until cold water attacked his senses and brought him back to reality, his mind turning over plans and possibilities, forming ideas and fantasies.

When he finally emerged back into the night it had grown considerably colder, the sun now long gone behind the horizon, and small snowflakes floated in the air. With his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, he made his way to the diner she worked at with a pace he struggled to keep leisurely. Once there, he waited on the sidewalk for a moment, watching through the windows as she moved among the tables until he was certain he'd be able to place himself in her section.

Stepping inside, he nodded a silent reply to the hostess who greeted him, and moved to occupy the empty table. His coat was hung over the back of his chair, her phone tucked inside one of the pocket of his jeans. Just before he sat he pulled it free and set it, face up, on the table, then folded his hands over it, effectively hiding it under his palms.

He waited.
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Old 03-05-2014, 04:22 PM   #3
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The ride home on the bus took twenty minutes, thirty max. Leaning her head against the cold plexiglass, Alice huddled her body away from the stranger sitting next to her on the seat, closing her eyes and attempting to listen to the thin strains of music coming from the headphones plugged into her ears. The song was irrelevant; it was a distraction at least, from the sweaty, talkative people who served as her fellow passengers on the No. 45, 14:15 vehicle. Although the current track was proving useless. The cheap headphones she used for travelling could not compete against the squeaks and squeals of the bus engine, the obnoxious digital chimes of the usual bass-heavy music being played on phone speakers somewhere behind her, the high-pitched tones of gossiping women who clustered around the front seats like animals protecting their territory. It was beginning to give her a headache just trying to concentrate on the lilting tones of whoever was singing - so instead, Alice just slumped against the window, her body hunched over her handbag.

Perhaps she would try and nap for an hour instead of watching TV. Now it was half-way through the second year, the workload was becoming enough to make her head spin. Add that on top of home...just being home was tiring. She felt far more in control when amongst those she called friends. Not that she didn't love her family, she did, all of their quirks. But it was straining lately. So restrictive. Alice had never felt like she'd had to keep secrets before, but now she did; all part of growing up perhaps, but it was all so new. Rebelling. It was a silent rebellion of course, but it felt invigorating all the same. I'm not who you think I am she'd think smugly, as she sat at the family dining table on the nights she wasn't working. You can't punish what you can't see.

It had started with the drinking. Before college, her run-ins with alcohol had been limited to champagne on birthdays and New Year, and a disastrous incident with shots for a friend's sixteenth. It had been nerve racking when finally confronted with a night on the town for the first time, but it had taken only an hour of sipping whiskey concoctions for those fears to leave. Warm, fuzzy, confident - Alice had never felt so powerful. Of course, the feeling had left by the next morning, leaving the predictable pounding of regret inbetween her ears. But it hadn't put her off. Study weekends were actually long nights of of stretching out her alcohol toleration, the occasional spliff, the languishing times of sitting in someone's smoky and dark apartment whilst watching horror B movies and playing what she had been told were the usual drinking games. If you wake up with the taste of someone in your mouth, you lost! were the exact words of the usually prude Iris half-way through one of these nights. In fact, it had been Iris who had introduced her to most of her current group. Laura, Ben, Francis, Elliot, Kim, Joe, Mike, Charlotte, Vicky...along with a few others that drifted in and out of their circle every few weeks.

Alice hadn't had time to drink for the last few weeks though. She didn't depend on it, it was a vice...a vice she'd had to cut out when deadlines had loomed. Student first. Despite the thrills her away from home behaviour gave her, Alice had put her education first. Eventually she wanted to be a teacher, and that sort of aim couldn't be reached with scraping at the bottom of the class. But it had been so frustrating. One of her little escapes had been the odd cigarette, although she hated the taste. One or two after a hard shift, swapping gossip with colleagues, leaning against the dank walls behind the restaurant with the cold evening air only brightened by the lit end of a Marlboro. Another escape had been simple procrastination, taking satisfaction somehow in playing with the time she had - deciding whether she would be stressed or rushed. With no one else to manipulate, why not herself? Eventually that had become boring, so then entered her third guilty pleasure - a dating website. Then two. Then she had created profiles on four. Sometimes as herself, sometimes not.

It was so fun, and the ego boost had helped distract her from the woes of an unfinished essay or the sounds of her parents arguing two doors down the upper floor of their house. People were so desperate, she'd discovered. From the panting hormones of an eighteen year old to the fifty plus man who hadn't gotten laid in years...they all approached her with the grace of a puppy, tongue all but hanging out and drooling over the few pictures she'd uploaded. Keeping all four in tabs whilst she worked on her laptop at home had given her so much entertainment over the last few weeks. She'd never meet with any, of course. It wasn't about that. Currently she was stringing along a guy from one of her classes - a sweet guy, but so pandering..and..his texts were almost pathetic, nonsensical. Although he was good-looking, he was boring. Like the others she would drop him in a few weeks once his unique brand of attention had worn off in shine.

Her family were completely ignorant of this. It wasn't as if Alice was acting when she was at home - her personality was still the same, but her hobbies a little more varied. Her parents had met a few of her friends and approved, and had relaxed Alice's leash just enough to let her taste independence. Over the last year she'd nestled in a comfortable niche for herself, carving out boundaries for all of her different friends, and for home. The latest stretch on her part had been with this guy - David. Maybe he preferred being called Dave, but she'd saved him in her phone as David, so that's what she called him. Her "casual relationship" with him had drawn out longer than some of her others, and eventually in the recesses of one dark night he'd asked her for pictures.

"Pictures?" she'd asked, to stall for time. She knew exactly what he was asking for straightaway, and at first the taboo of it struck her with a childish glee. It wasn't something she'd done before...

The reply was slow coming, but he'd finally had the balls to follow-up on his request.

"I want to see you so badly..."

Alice had teased him for a while, but eventually he'd been blunt. Her body - he wanted to see her body. Why not, she'd finally thought, lounging over her bed whilst holding the phone up to read the texts. It's my body. Let him see what I'll never let him touch.

After stripping off with the graceful dance one only does when alone, Alice twirled slowly in front of her bedroom mirror, examining the curves and patterns of her body with a scrutinising eye. Was it best to act shy about it? Or should I mimic a porn star pose? Her left hand held the phone in front of her as her right smoothed down her body, cupping her breasts for a lingering moment before she squeezed them together with both her upper arms to create spilling cleavage. This is good enough..

Over the next few days, he'd asked for a few more, and after putting it off playfully, eventually she'd happily fulfilled the request. Thinking about how she was the object of his current fantasies sent a shiver down her spine. At first it'd just been topless photos - leaning back on her bed to take a photo from above, smiling at the mirror as she squeezed her breasts together, another being a more natural one out of the shower, wet tendrils of dark red hair making patterns on the slopes up to hard nipples. The last two she'd sent had been almost full nudes - but hadn't showed anything explicit. She had to hold something back, to keep the chase exciting for them both.

Remembering his reaction left a smile on Alice's face as she signalled for the bus to drop her off at the next stop. It was only a ten minute walk home from here - soon she would be home, and she would definitely grab that nap. Her eyes had been fluttering shut for the last few minutes of the bus ride, despite her reminiscing.



Alice looked through her handbag again, fingers pressing against the silky insides desperately as she felt around the contents. Not there. Just like it hadn't been ten minutes ago.

Her phone was missing. When she'd finally walked in the front door, Alice had made a bee-line for her room to sleep, planning to set an alarm on her phone for an hour's time. But when she'd looking in her jeans pocket, it wasn't there. The small pockets on her flimsy jacket were empty save for change and fluff. She'd spent forty minutes outside, tracing her steps back and to from the bus stop - nothing. Eventually, she'd even called the bus company - but when the bus had finally pulled back into the station, her phone wasn't found there either.

It probably fell out of my pocket there when I was messing with my music-player...and now it's been stolen. Fuck this.

With an hour or so to get ready before she'd have to make her way to work, Alice decided to give up on her search for now and rush her shower. Her work uniform was plain, smart - tight black pants, black waistcoat and a low-cut white shirt that she reckoned gained her more tips than her smile. Pinning back her hair in a loose bun, she called it done with an application of neutral-pink lipstick.

Maybe I left it at the café. I could stop by there tomorrow.

Did I have a pass code on it? I'm sure I had some sort of code for security...

These thoughts haunted her all the way to work, Alice having to resist the urge to chew on her thumbnail - an old habit, that she'd only been able to stop in her early teens. Glancing out at the darkening sky out of the bus window, she tried to forget about her phone and just focus on the shift ahead. Short and sweet - perhaps she could go for a drink or two with co-workers after if the night wasn't too busy. It'd take her mind off stuff, and she needed some sort of release after weeks of a heavy work load.

Arriving at the restaurant, she cast a long glance in the direction of the café - closed long before she'd arrived, from the looks of it - and headed in the staff back door to remove her long grey coat, rubbing her hands together to try and warm up her fingertips before finally heading out into the main seating area. It was a fairly busy night, although it wasn't their prime time yet. Six families, a few couples, and a few people eating alone dotted around. Her designated tables would be 3, 4, 5, 6 and then 12, 17, 21 and 25 - although all of the waiting staff picked up drink and bread basket refills between them.


It was about an hour in when Alice had been prompted to take the order of a new arrival. Balancing a few returning plates, Margie - the floor supervisor, a large lady with thick black hair in a tight bun - had directed her to table 17 next. Apparently he'd just arrived on his own and still needed to be served on. Taking a moment to try and fix the stray hairs flying around her head, she plastered a smile on her face and headed over briskly. Clasping her hands together and bowing her head politely, she stood before the table as she chimed out the usual greeting.

"Welcome sir, thank you for choosing to eat with us today. Can I take your drink order?"

The restaurant lighting was dim, but she could see it was an older guy - greying hair in places, a serious expression. He was sat close to the table with his hands placed delicately over the other in front of him, and as she awaited his reply she straightened her posture nervously and finally thought to take out her orders notebook from the waistcoat pocket. Stupid Alice. Stop thinking, start doing.
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Old 03-06-2014, 07:25 PM   #4
Scuttle Buttin'
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It is said that for every choice made, the opposite choice is made in another universe. Each one, branching out, branching out, branching out, and infinite number of universes where things played out differently. Perhaps, then, there existed a universe where the phone was simply turned in. Perhaps another where he chased her down and returned it, and their lives intersected no more beyond that. Yet another where he saw the pictures, realized what he was doing was wrong, and turned in the phone. Others still where he simply dumped it in the trash and went on with his life, or returned it to the table for someone else to find, or ignored it entirely, never having touched the thin device that could - would - bring Alice's life crashing down.

And if all of those were true, then there must, as well, exist a universe where Oliver sat at the table while he waited for her to come to him and, truly alone with his thoughts one final time, he realized what he was about to do was wrong. A universe where he smiled, and told her he found her phone, and returned it. Maybe he ended up with a meal on the house, or just a hug from a pretty girl. Maybe it was another of those tiny, seemingly insignificant moments that changed the entire direction of a person's life, and he walked out of the diner happy with the person he was for the first time in a long time. Maybe, in that other universe, things worked out well for both of them.

None of these thoughts occurred to Oliver as he waited, his hands folded and covering the phone. He was hyper aware of the sleek lines of the device under his palms, hyper aware of what was contained within and the power it may grant him. Alone with his thoughts, only two things occupied his time in the short minutes before she approached him.

The first was the image, all but burned into his mind, of the naked redhead and her pert, firm breasts, proudly on display. Did women such as her, he wondered distantly, realize the power of their bodies? Surely she couldn't be unaware of the near perfection of her curves and lines... The thought, however, that she may very well be only fueled the bitter anger that had slowly begun to consume him.

The second only stoked those same fires, adding oxygen to make them burn hotter within his core. As he sat, he watched what seemed a nearly endless supply of happy couples around him, talking in hushed tones, laughing at private jokes, sharing looks that only two connected people could understand. All things he had once, with the Bitch. All things he had now. The image of the girl became mixed up in his head, the young redhead and his wife nearly interchangeable.

Young hips moving, red hair swaying as she sat astride Robert, riding him as he watched in silent, stunned horror from the doorway, neither of them aware of his presence.

His wife pleading with him to calm down, to sit with them and talk, and he realized in her voice that he was no longer part of 'them.'

A red hair stuck to the asshole's chest, spackled on by the sweat worked up from fucking his wife, and he-

He caught sight of her, the red hair stood out like a flaming torch in the low light of the room, and his line of thoughts cut off like someone had put a kink in the hose. His fingers, which he hadn't realized had curled tightly around the phone as he lost himself in his thoughts, relaxed, and he managed to offer a smile to her as she approached. Hers was a fake - though a good one - but once you've seen the real thing offered up in pictures, a fake smile on a person was easy to spot.

She asked for his drink order, a string of words she'd said countless times and probably muttered in her sleep on occasion, and he paused for a moment. He was inching up to the cliff, not quite at the point of no return but it was very much in sight, and he found his nerve beginning to leave him.

"I, um..." he began, then stopped again and looked down at his hands. His head tilted so he could look back up at her, and the sight of her straightening her back, pushing her breasts out in a move he had no doubt she used to increase her tips, sealed her fate. He wanted her. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to posses her. He wanted to teach the little cunt a lesson.

"Actually," he finally began, and the smile he offered her was all too genuine, "I believe I have something of yours."

His hands pivoted up, both thumbs in the air to reveal the little black phone hidden underneath.

"But," he said after a moment, and his hands folded back over it, hiding it from view again, "Before I give it to you, I'd like you to sit with me for a moment."

His eyes remained on her, but with a nod of his head he indicated the empty seat across the table from his.

"Only a moment, I know you're busy and I don't want to take up too much of your time. But a moment of your time is not too much to ask for the return of your phone. Right?"

Last edited by Scuttle Buttin' : 03-06-2014 at 07:48 PM.
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Old 03-07-2014, 04:31 PM   #5
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There was a lot Alice was prepared for. Life during college - eventually she planned to move out, maybe to a house share, to leave the cocoon of home and spread her butterfly wings in true freedom. After college? A placement, volunteering, perhaps...to move to another city. The thought was girlish and something she'd held onto since childhood - to leave and stake out her identity elsewhere, away from family expectations, separated from the reputation she now held. Not that she had any regrets, but this was where she'd been her whole life. Alice craved a fresh start, a wiped board, a clean slate. All of those things and more.

She was prepared for what she'd do if her parents found out that she drank, that she'd experimented with drugs, that sometimes she could be sly and sneaky to get what she wanted. Alice was prepared for if they found the sexier clothing she had in her wardrobe, the whore-red lipstick she kept in her handbag, the skimpy lingerie at the back of her underwear drawer bought for her by Kim just in case. She had explanations, answers, excuses and reasons for all of these, to placate and comfort. Alice was prepared. For everything.

Everything except this. Her phone, something she'd never let fall out of her grasp, held in the hands of one of her customers, talking in a I'm-Taking-No-Shit voice with an expression to match. For a moment she stood there speechless, mouth bobbing from open to closed in confusion before she gathered her wits.

"Only a moment, I know you're busy and I don't want to take up too much of your time. But a moment of your time is not too much to ask for the return of your phone. Right?"

A flashed nervous smile paired with a suspicious narrowing of her eyes answered him first, before she finally smoothed out her expression to an innocent curve of the lips. Giving a subtle glance around her to check where other staff were, she took two steps in her small, black kitten heels to stand directly next to this customer; looking down at him, she let out a little amused exhalation of breath before bending at the waist gracefully to look him in the eyes, mouth pressing into a soft pout. Up close she could see the greying areas of his dark hair, and she blinked her eyes innocently as he turned to look into hers with a sharp, blue-tinted gaze.

"Thank you so much for finding this for me - I'm in the middle of my shift, so we can talk about payment for returning it afterwards, yes? Please understand, I can't just sit amongst the customers whilst taking orders."

Alice allowed another practiced smile to replace the pout, letting her eyebrows furrow in a show of the embarrassed waitress. This guy...this guy. Nice enough to return her phone, but how did it get it anyway? How did he know it was hers? Had he stolen it - had he looked through it? Why did he want her to sit down to discuss this?

Calm, Alice. He was probably just the traditional type who liked to discuss 'transactions' face-to-face, or something. Hopefully he'd settle and give her the phone now, so she could skip out the backdoor early and avoid handing over money for him just doing the right thing. Asshole.
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Old 03-13-2014, 04:22 AM   #6
Scuttle Buttin'
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Her open-mouthed confusion was a joy to see, a true delight in what had been an otherwise grey and dark time in this city. She had clearly thought the phone lost for good, money down the drain, numbers and texts lost to whatever miscreant had snatched her phone. The surprise was delicious, her pretty features working as her mind fought to caught up with this unexpected development. And then, his head tipped back to watch her, he saw when the recovery happened and she became herself again.

The closeness was a surprise as she moved in close to him, and it threw him off a bit. He'd expected her to sit as she was told, to be overcome with relief that she didn't even think of doing otherwise. Even failing that, most people naturally did what a person twice their age told them to do, a training left over from childhood. When she instead glanced around, then closed in on him, he found himself struggling to adjust, fighting to keep himself in check as her scent filled his nostrils.

Then she let slip something approaching a laugh, a throwaway little sound she likely wouldn't even remember making a few seconds later, and all snapped back into place for him.

The plan had been to present her with the phone, to tell her about the pictures when she'd sat down, and then to base his next steps on her reaction. Anything but loud outrage meant he would press forward, and press hard, and have her in his apartment before the night was reaching towards morning. The pout she offered him as she leaned down close changed all of that.

Fucking..., he thought, his eyes focused on hers, holding her gaze.

Entitled..., he thought, his chest rising as he filled himself with the scent of her.

Bitch, he thought, her voice flowing over him, making the urge to slap her rise up in him to such a degree that he had to lay one hand over the other to still it.

Instead, as her pout slid into a smile that he had no doubt she'd offered to every customer she'd seen tonight, he found himself settled on a new plan he hadn't even been aware he was forming. He reflected her smile, but there was nothing happy behind it, his eyes darkening instead.

"Payment, yes," he said, nodding once, her deal presumably accepted. "Why don't I just leave the address in your phone where you can meet me..."

His voice trailed off as his thumb hit the lock button, his time spent with her phone meaning he didn't have to look to perform the action. Instead, his eyes remained still on hers as his finger slide across the screen, unlocking it, and the next image that showed on the bright display was her body, still wet from the shower, red hair stuck to her skin.

"Oh," he said in faux surprise, though he had yet to look from her to the phone, "Did I leave that on there? My mistake..."

His eyes slid to the small device on the table then, beckoning her gaze to join his. He waited until she looked, until she realized what she was seeing, and then his thumb depressed the button that would send the phone to it's home screen, banishing the picture from view.

"You really should be careful what you leave on your phone," he said, his gaze returning to her, his voice kept hushed so their conversation didn't leak out to any of the surrounding tables, "Because it could fall into the wrong hands if you leave it behind while giggling with your little friend. And not everyone is as nice as I am in returning it, you see.

"Some people might go looking through it, and find anything you may have left. Pictures. E-mails to friends. Family. A reply from the dean of students. So many e-mail addresses, and they would probably copy them all. Some of them might even take the phone home and copy the pictures to their own computer, just to have a little insurance in case they lost the phone..."

His thumb slid along the side to the lock button, and he extinguished the screen again, then folded both hands back over it.

"So yes, let's talk about payment for returning it later, shall we? You know the Windgate Motel? Old run down place, fleabag motel you'd never send anyone to? If you're not there a half hour after your shift ends, alone, then every dirty little picture on your phone will be waiting in the inbox of your friends, and your dean, and your parents before the sun comes up."

His hands uncovered the phone, a single index finger placed in the center of the screen, and he slid it across the table towards her.

"I'll text you the room number. Don't worry Alice, I already programmed your number in my phone."

His digit lifted from the darkened glass screen, finally releasing the phone to her.

"A half hour. Alone. Or else."

He didn't wait for a reply, or a full reaction, or for her to take the phone off the table. Rising from his chair, he shrugged on his coat and swept from the restaurant, leaving her standing where she'd cozied up to him.


He'd wasted no time once leaving the restaurant, a couple stops required before he was ready for her. The first was to an office supply store that was open late for printing emergencies, the man behind the counter seemingly annoyed that his evening of nothingness had been interrupted so he could ring out Oliver's small purchase. With the white plastic bag in hand, he boarded a bus next, then made the short walk to another stop after he got off. Fifteen minutes later, another bus took him to a part of town that could generously be described as seedy, and he ducked through the neon-lined door of an all-night sex shop.

His purchase made there - the clerk this time annoyed that his eyes had to leave the vigorous fucking unspooling on a half dozen tvs around the room so he could ring out a purchase - Oliver waited another twenty minutes for his third and final bus. This final one took him close enough to home that he walked the rest of the way, his coat bundled against the chill in the air.

He went straight to the garage to retrieve his car, and a quick check of his watch as he pulled out told him that he had little time to spare. The streets had already begun to empty of any major traffic, and he was at the sad little motel quicker than he'd expected to be. That extra time was eaten up as he waited for someone to appear behind the desk and help him, and when the guy finally arrived it was clear he'd been asleep when Oliver arrived, and from the smell was at least a little drunk. Oliver was more than okay with not being remembered at this step, and so he happily paid for a night and took the key which, to his surprise, turned out to be an actual key on a plastic ring.

With a bag in each hand, he made his way up to the room, laughing to himself as the door swung open to reveal it's pathetic contents within. A queen bed dominated the room, the mattress pushed up against the wall with no headboard and only one bedside table. In the corner, near the small bathroom he didn't even bother looking at, stood a small round table and two chairs. Happily, for him, both chairs had arms that connected to the back and the seat, forming a large loop on each side, and seemed sturdy enough. Dragging one to the foot of the bed, he pulled two sets of handcuffs from one of the bags, and snapped one onto each arm of the chair.

A flip notepad was pulled from the other bag, and one of a small handful of permanent markers with it. In big block letters of black ink he wrote:


Satisfied, he set the note on the end of the bed, and paused to take a final look at the room. With a nod, he grabbed the two bags and slid the key into his pocket, and retreated from the room. Instead of closing the door fully, he left it open a crack so the lock didn't engage, and with another glance at his watch he made his way to his waiting car.

Pulling from the gravel parking lot, he backed into an empty lot across the street, positioning himself so he could see the door, the light from the room spilling out into the dark night. Slipping his phone from his pocket, he found her number in his contacts, and send her a message containing just two digits:

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