Hansel & Gretel (Gretel is taken by ChaseMePleez but we still need a witch)

[wordsandballs]

*Hansel and Gretel Roles are taken. Inquire with ChaseMePleez if you want to be the "witch"*

Hansel: 19 years old, freshly graduated from American public high school in the midwest, bucolic suburban childhood. He's tall and lank, 6'1", blond, blue eyed. He's bright but instead of going to college right after high school has decided to spend the fall backpacking overseas.

Hansel arrived at the Turtle Island hostel well after dusk, slumping under the weight of his pack, the Lonely Planet Turkey in hand. His copy looked new but it bore several post-it note tabs already. He'd taken a municipal bus from the airport to a station on the outskirts of the downtown area, and found his way by foot to the guest house, relying on his newly acquired aptitude at using the little thumbnail maps in his travel guide. Across the street from the bus drop-off there was a crowd of people milling about a food stand, and, famished, he'd discovered they were eating strange little hamburgers soaked in tomato sauce. He'd had three, standing alone in the large pedestrian mall of Taksim square, looking enviously at the facades of fancy hotels as their lights snapped on. He felt as if the mysterious city was was swallowing him into its evening.

According to the write up in his Lonely Planet, the Turtle Island hostel was a longstanding, cheap, popular and "funky" accommodation. Exactly the sort of place he'd stayed in dozens of times now as he made his way east from the British Isles. Istanbul was supposed to be his last stop before heading back to safe, familiar vacuum of home.

The straps of his pack had printed dark stripes of sweat into his t shirt. Even with the sun subsided it was hot. He didn't doddle at the door, didn't make his customary round to check out the other hostels nearby. He was tired, having not slept well on the plane. He was thirsty for beer. And he was carrying with him a growing fatigue that had been slowly accumulating during these last three months living out of a bag, among the ghosts, tourists and citizens of the great cities of the West.

He entered a large 'foyer' (though this was too high-minded a term for this simple room) that was stuffed with spring-worn couches and chairs. There were people sitting around chatting, drinking coffee, tea and beer. Reading. Skyping. Playing backgammon and cards. He looked past them to the man at the back of the room, behind a cafe counter. He was tall and dark, his hair closely cropped. The lamplight of the room was too faint to tell much more.

Hansel asked who he should talk to about a room, and the man told him the desk person had left for the night, but that Hansel could leave his passport and check-in to the dorm, and they would work it out in the morning. Relieved, Hansel trundled up the creaky, narrow staircase to the top floor, past the shared bathroom and into the spartan dormitory, where he deposited his bag on his bed. He took out his passport and a few other paltry valuables, quietly working the zippers of the pack to avoid waking the sleeping forms in the bunks throughout the long room.

He was already thinking of the city outside awaiting him as he changed his t shirt and stepped out of the dorm, closing the door gently behind him.

 

[ChaseMePleez]

Gretel: 19 years old, received GED from American educational institution through home studies. Parents were with 'Doctors without Borders'. Family relationship was strained due to alcohol abuse on part of her father. She's short and curvy, 5'2", long auburn hair and blue eyes. Rebellious and high-spirited, she took off as soon as she became legal and started traveling to see the world.

Gretel had been staying at hostel for the last few days until she could receive word from her parents. They didn't demand much but they did insist on hearing from her every few weeks. Once she gives them word where she's at her mother always finds a way to send some cash and supplies to her. They had given her a whole year to get it out of her system, this wanderlust that had her itching to leave as soon she turned eighteen. There was no way that she would stick around to witness her father's drunken binges. On the outside they had looked like the perfect family but on the inside they fought a nightly battle with her father's vices.

Despite the fact there was no way this place could be confused with a four-star hotel, Gretel preferred it to home. Of course because of her folks' job she had been this way before numerous times. For money she had even acted as a translator for a few groups of Americans that had wondered to the Island. A few had tried stiffing her on the agreed amount of payment but Gretel made sure they saw things her way and that it would better for them if they honored the deal.

As for men in general, it had been a while since she had even met anyone she even remotely could consider a potential lover. The men in town knew her now and she still got the hoots and hollars thanks to her generous bust. Thank you, Mother Nature. Gretel didn't focus on dating but tried to take in what was around her. Her travel journal contained the most beautiful pictures, newspaper clippings and descriptions of her experiences during her stays in different countries. She even had a sketch of the Palacio Real from Madrid in her journal.

The only travel buddy she had with her was the professional camera that her mother had given her when she turned sixteen. Gretel had been doing freelance photography since she was seventeen. It had become a passion when her grandmother had given this cheap 35mm for a gift. Once she had started she couldn't stop. Her father had never appreciated the talent his daughter obviously had but her mother encouraged her whenever she could.

Today had been 'interesting' to say the least. For some reason Gretel felt responsible for the idiot American tourists that came through that didn't know what the hell they were doing and often got into trouble. Around 3 in the afternoon a girl named Nanya came to her saying that her group of tourists had been missing one guy. His friends said that he was kind of a wild card and would probably be in one of the local bars. That was asking for trouble because the locals didn't take much lip from foreigners and were quick to throw a punch.

Gretel found the idiot on the floor of a tavern that was called The Roasted Duck in English. No one said they had good taste in names. A few of the guys had given her that look like they wanted to try pushing her around but Gretel had already taught one of them the hazard of ttrying that with her. Her father had seen to her training while she was a child. It was necessary since they were traveling through the Middle East and other countries where they could run into hostiles.

Tired and aggravated beyond belief. Gretel walked back inside her temporary home. Her arms hurt from dragging that idiot back to his friends. She was heading back to the dorm where she was sleeping when she got to look at a new face. Gretel took a deep breath and tried to will away the blush. He was cute. Act cool, Gretel. Don't be such a dork. Naturally she assumed he was Turkish. The door to her dorm was right past him so she walked by, glancing briefly at him. Might as well be polite. "AKŞAMLAR HAYROLSUN. Bunu sadece burada mı? " She offered in a pleasant voice.

((Translation:Good evening. Did you just get here?))

 

[wordsandballs]

Hansel looked dumbly down at the blushing, quizzically-smiling stranger who'd accosted him so unexpectedly in Turkish. Her blue eyes belied her Turkishness, but he was certain that was what she was speaking to him, he'd gotten familiar with the unique sounds of the language on the bus. To him it sounded like a frenchman trying to speak German with a fat noodle caught in his throat. As this cute, buxom young girl passed him in the hall, he barely managed "uhhhh......Hello....Marhaaba..." before she, smiling back at him briefly, disappeared into an adjacent dormitory.
He sighed inwardly. That was a brief and welcome respite from his solitude, but he'd learned not to read to much into it. In his sojourning about Europe, he'd linked up with quite a few travel buddies, male and female, for meals, tours, drinks, dancing. He'd learned that these 'backpacker' girls were tough nuts to crack, and more often than not preferred to meet swarthy, handsome locals than cornfed Midwestern everymen.
But, she did seem friendly, and not shy. And apparently she spoke Turkish. Maybe she could show him around a bit or at least give him some idea of things that must be seen.
Hansel made his way back down the three flights of flimsy stairs to the lounge area and found himself a nice, cushy armchair, ordered himself an Efes beer, and reclined, just letting the sound of the world's languages and the laughter of young people toss him lightly about like a well-anchored bouy in a sea of light chop.

 

[wordsandballs]

I was in the hostel cafe/lounge when Hansel first turned up. Nice looking kid, a tad bedraggled by travel as these types often are, but utterly well-fed and probably from a comfortable, bucolic home somewhere in the vast paved-over American prairie. He had that guileless, trusting American face I've seen so many times and am so quick to notice. Its indispensable in my line.

I observed him casually, easily evading his distracted attentions with the mask of disinterest that I'm wont to wear, simultaneously weighing the YTL's he'd fetch for me down the road, in my mind. Still as a spider I subtly tracked his crossing of the room, his inquiries and his passage up the staircase to the back of the room. I sipped my sour cherry juice, helped myself to a few nuts from the dish and slipped out the door into the gathering night.

 

[ChaseMePleez]

Gretel ducked into the dormitory that she was sleeping in before she could embarrass herself further. It was almost comical that all it took was a pair of big blue eyes to make her act like her I.Q. had dropped a few hundred points. She stood there at the door, arguing with herself about whether or not to go back and introduce herself. "I'm so damn stupid." She mumbled to herself as she stomped over to her bunk. She laid there for a few minutes.

Being social had never been her thing growing up. She had had boyfriends in the past but the relationships were mainly physical. After seeing her parents' relationship combust from alcohol abuse, Gretel was wary of making any emotional ties to any man. This guy looked like the type that always tripped her up: average American boy next door.Gretel pouted and fussed at herself. "Gretel Sanderson is no coward." What's the worst that could happen if she just tried being social for once?

Gretel shirked off the suede jacket she had been wearing and went back out the door. She peaked into the dormitory that she had seen him standing near in the hallways but didn't see him at any of the bunks. A few of the strays that were laying about waved to her. The two old-timers from London asked her to join their game of poker. "Not tonight, guys. Besides, I know you two can cheat." She laughed at their so-called innocent denials of wrongdoing. Those two must have been in their late 60's and had been best friends since they were 18 years old.

She backed out of the dormitory and closed the door. Gretel decided to get a beer downstairs and try to relax. She took her time down the stairs since she didn't feel like breaking her neck and went for the lounge. She yelled a greeting to Iska, the maid, who was mopping up a spill near a rear window. Gretel tried not to stare when she noticed her infamous stranger in an armchair. In the usual rapid Turkish, she ordered a beer from the clerk.

Once she had her beer, she sat down in a chair across from the blonde haired male. Gretel cleared her throat and tried to look friendly. "Hi. My name is Gretel Sanderson. You wouldn't be American, would you?" Good opener, Gretel. Her own sarcasm haunted her.

I watched as the young female that had been staying at the hostel came bounding in. She was quite the character when angered. I admired the spirit in her and knew someone else would as well. I just had to bring it to her attention. It was comical watching her sit next to the boy and try to think of something to say. The awkward attraction was evident. As I sipped my drink, I thought that that attraction might be a tool I could use.

 

[wordsandballs]

Hansel was a bit surprised to see the young, fiery girl again so soon, and the fact that she was initiating and engaging him again was more surprising still. He tried to play it cool but was inwardly certain that she noticed his initial squirm at being overwhelmed by her attention. He recovered quickly though, happy to have someone to talk to after a long spell of solitude on the bus and on the way here, he dropped any instinct towards guile and presented his simple, milk-fed self.

"Yeah I am American - is it that obvious? How could you tell? I'm from Kansas. What about you? Oh, sorry," he stopped himself in the middle of taking a sip from his Efes," I'm Hansel. Nice to meet you..."

 

[ChaseMePleez]

Gretel smiled. "When you didn't respond upstairs, I kind of figured it was because you weren't local." He looked a little uncomfortable. "Relax. I don't bite." The smirk on her face was unmistakable while took a long drink of her beer. "I grew up pretty much everywhere. My folks were with Doctors without Borders. Spent most of my life overseas. I think was maybe 4 or 5 years old last time I was in the U.S." It had been a long time since Gretel had found anyone this appealing. She caught herself staring at his mouth, which was very well made.

She had no idea if the attraction was obvious. "I usually take around groups of tourists since I know the language better than most natives. Its not what I want to do with my life but it pays for what I need." Her pictures were her passion. Showing others how she saw the world through the lens of a camera was how she really lived. "No girlfriend in tow? Most guys have some sweet piece following after them when they come down here." The tactic was a little amateurish but she honestly wanted to know if he was single or not.

It was obvious by the look on the girl's face that she was attracted to this American stranger. I sat back and let it take it's course. These two were just too perfect for her needs.

 

[wordsandballs]

Hansel made an exaggerated display of looking over his shoulder, smiling somewhat sheepishly as he did. He noticed a strange looking man turn away as he did so, an unmediated warning flashed in his brain before he turned back, forgetting it immediately. He felt his cock stir in his tight jeans, this cutie was giving him shimmering, long glances and asking about his girlfriend status in the first minute of sitting down. In the course of his travels thus far he hadn't had much success with women, a few fun nights of drinking and innocent making out aside. He'd broken up with his girlfriend a couple weeks before leaving - she was heading off to college and didn't want to be tied to him.

And he'd found it frustratingly difficult to find the right time and place to jack off in his peripatetic meandering from hostel dormitory to hostel dormitory. All this had left him on a bit of a hair trigger concerning sex, his balls full and yearning. For the most part, he'd been successful at putting this unseen pressure out of mind, storing it away as he let the foreign world thrall him. But this girl, his attraction to her and the way she was looking at him - it was sending messages down along his spinal column and tugging at the sinews of his loins.

"Nope. I don't think I'm being followed," he said, cherishing the beer-wet shine of her full lips when she smiled in response. "Are you staying here?" Hansel was far from suave but was hoping to turn the conversation towards: 'is there somewhere we could go?' He remembered the condom that he'd carried halfway around the world in his wallet.

 

[ChaseMePleez]

Gretel grinned. At least this guy had some sort of sense of humor. "That's cute." She didn't say anything but she swore she saw somebody looking their way. It was a tad creepy but this place was like small towns. No one ever minded their own business. Her question had made her interest blatantly obvious but she never did believe in beating around the bush when she wanted something. His body was very well made and she hadn't missed the tell tale signs that he liked her's as well. The attraction was more than mutual and she was distracted with images of him naked, his head between her legs.

"Yes, there's a place. Follow me." There was an area of the hostel that used to be housing for a live-in maid that was available 24/7 but she moved out after she got married. The furniture belonged to the owner so everything was still there. It used to by the attic before it was converted into the apartment it was now. There was a small staircase in the far south area of the hostel that led to it. Gretel was one of the few people who had the key to the place. "No one ever comes here anymore." She turned the key and pushed open the door.

She said a silent thank you that the owners had housekeeping clean this place on occasion. Gretel flipped the switch for the light and sat down on the full-sized bed that lay against a wall near a window."No one will bother us up here. I come up her sometimes when I need a little quiet time. It can get pretty bad when the frat boys come here looking for fun." Some were downright ridiculous and their pick-up lines about as good as a 13 year old's.

Gretel decided to go for it and pulled him down onto the bed when he was within reach. She giggled as she pinned him down onto the mattress. Her triumphant smirk lighting up her eyes. "Well, now I have you at my mercy. What shall I do to you?" She waggled her brows at him. "Let's try this for starters." She brushed her lips over his slowly.

 

[wordsandballs]

Hansel felt a strange wariness coming over him as he ascended the unseen back staircase, led up the steep old-world stairs by his new friend's lush wiggling ass less than a meter from his blush-warmed face. Was this too good to be true? He'd never had an encounter happen so suddenly, with so little resistance or effort (except for a somewhat regrettable choice he'd made to pop into a dutch brothel). What was this Gretel's angle? He found himself cynically turning over the possibilities in his mind but couldn't think of an easy answer.

He decided it was possible that she needed him as much as he needed her; was as hungry as he. Girls in the midwest were never this frank, and he didn't know what to say, if she liked his cornfed-rube look or could sense the depraved sexual being that sometimes shaded his irises and flitted across the features of his saucer-eyed face.

When she told him the provenance of the room and tossed his willing bulk teasingly to the mattress, he felt his schoolboy charm melt away and his deep, ancient need simmer towards the surface. When she lightly brushed her lips across his, he took her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth (he'd learned that in the netherlands). If she wanted it, he decided, she was going to get it.

He cupped her ass in one hand, lifted with his hips and flipped her easily onto her back, giggling as she twisted and he lowered his lean bulk into her, his growing hard on pressed warmly into her thigh (OOC: what is she wearing?) through his jeans, his face inches from hers, beveling into her eyes with his.