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Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Vampire City ? From Page 74 “Well either way,” she said, “it’s appreciated.” She sat up and stretched her toned arms over her head and worked her neck round. BQ was glad to know he wasn’t the only one feeling it today. While she stretched he looked at her in the dim light of early morning. Her hair seemed more red than auburn in the gloom, almost alight. Her face was all sharp angles yet somehow warm and inviting. Her sinewy body rippled under the grey tank top she wore. He scanned her from the waist up, lingering over her womanness. When he got to her face she was returning his gaze. He flushed and turned away. “Sorry.” “It’s okay; I’m a half-naked woman in your bed. I’d be surprised if you didn’t take a gander.” “That’s nice of you, but I’m… I’m not really like that. You’re just…” Beautiful? Otherworldy? Perfect? “… not like the women I usually have in here. Not that I’m… I mean, not that I’m NOT, but… I mean I’ve had my share of… good grief. I am so awkward.” She laughed again and it filled the room and BQ’s heart. “Relax, cowboy.” “I’ll try.”
“While she stretched he looked at her in the dim light of early morning. Her hair seemed more red than auburn in the gloom, almost alight. Her face was all sharp angles yet somehow warm and inviting. Her sinewy body rippled under the grey tank top she wore.” In silence they dressed. BQ pulled jeans and a T-shirt over his boxers and skinny torso and pulled on his Nike running shoes. Hannah shrugged on the black pullover and leggings she’d been wearing. She caught him, again, admiring her form as she did so, but was kind enough not to mention it. She gathered her white robe and stuffed it into her pack, which looked part-backpack/part duffel bag. The pack had appeared out of nowhere once they’d reached the apartment. Inside it BQ saw a flash of extra clothing, some communication devices, perhaps a GPS, and what looked like a set of railroad spikes. He suspected they had something to do with feminine hygiene, which was now, and forever would remain, dark magic to him. Dressed, they moved into the kitchen and living room, where Hannah plopped down on a comfy chair and put her black hiking boots on. Very dim grey light spilled lazily through the shades. It looked like a cloudy, possibly
stormy morning, though it was difficult to tell through the closed drapes. “Coffee?” BQ asked. “Sure,” she answered. “French roast? Italian blend? Morning melange?” “You’re quite the connoisseur.” “Not really, I got this Keurig machine from the trash heap at the restaurant. Technically, I think I stole it.” “You bad boy, you.” “Yeah, well, anyway, you just pop in the cup, press the button, 30 seconds later you got a perfect cup of coffee. I get the little K-cups at Acme. It’s really changed my life.” “I can understand that. I’ll have a French roast, please. Black” A minute later, they each had a steaming cup of coffee, hers dark, his loaded with cream and sugar. She sipped. “Mmm… this is nice.” “Thanks, I slaved over it,” he quipped and hoped she didn’t notice he’d burnt his lip and was squinting back tears. She did, but was again kind enough not to comment. “It’s not like the coffee I used to drink back home, but it’ll certainly do.” “Where’s home?” She pondered his question for a long
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