PGP- Angel of Harlem--oh the torture of it all!

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Sad_Girl said:
conan4_3.jpg


It’s been a long night, but well worth it, you think. An evening of schmoozing the spoiled rotten celebrities who are, unfortunately, a necessity in your line of work. Oh, they’re not all bad, you remind yourself. It’s just the ones who think their celebrity status means you owe them something. The ones who spend more on a handbag than many of the people in your old hometown earned in a year.

You slip out of your ridiculously shaped high heels, your feet sinking into the thick, plush carpeting as you move into the living room. You let down your hair and flip the light-switch off, preparing to relax for awhile before finding your bed and indulging in several hours of sleep. At least, with the party behind you, you can take a day off tomorrow. Suddenly, you realize you aren’t as alone as you’d thought.

You turn to face the couch and find him sitting there smiling at you, his eyes washing down the length of you appreciatively. He left. You know he left, you tell yourself. Yet, there he is, still wearing the leather jacket which you had helped him put on a short while ago, when he said he was leaving.

“What are you doing here?” You ask dumbly, your shoes dangling loosely from one hand, your other hand combing through your hair reflexively.

“I realized something.” He tells you, his posh accent as smooth as well aged whiskey.

“And that is…?” You ask, your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

“I realized…” he says, smacking his lips as he pauses to shrug out of his jacket. “That you didn’t want me to leave.”

You feel as if the room is spinning wildly around you. You and he are the only two things which remain fixed in one place. Him on the couch, you standing a few feet away, staring at him in open mouthed surprise.

“Excuse me?” You ask, managing to sound offended by the insinuation that you had been flirting with him so boldly. How could he just come right out and say something like that? You may have found some enjoyment in the possibility of him remaining after the other guests had gone, but how could he know you’d been thinking that?

“No reason to apologize.” He tells you with a smirk, leaning back against the couch with an exaggerated ease. He rests one muscular arm across the back of the couch, making a perfect place for you to sit snuggled up against him. “I wanted to stay, too. Though, you might’ve made yourself a bit more clear. I wouldn’t have had to leave at all, if you hadn’t waited until you said good-bye to let me know how you felt.”

“I – What did I -?” You stammer, still shocked at his audacity. You want to be angry with him. You ought to slap him across the face, tell him to leave before you call security. You won’t though. Your whole body is alive with anticipation, just being alone with him this way.

“Now.” He says, cocking his head to the side. “Are you going to stand there awhile longer, or are you going to join me?” Without a thought you feel your feet move across the soft carpet, your hands let go of the unwanted shoes. You can’t speak, you can barely breathe; your chest is practically heaving by the time you’ve closed the distance. He watches you with half lowered lids, obviously interested in every move of your body. You stop in front of him, your eyes locking with his.

After a torturously long moment, he leans forward, a massive hand sliding around your waist to find the center of your back and pulling you down onto his lap. He lifts your chin with two fingers on the other hand and kisses you, almost chastely, on the lips. Your arms slide around his neck and your eyes flutter shut, but not before you see that smirk once more. His lips cover your finally, in a slow, sensual kiss full of promises.

Promises that he was not one of those selfish celebrities who you loathed. Promises that he was not leaving until you told him to go. Promises that you would need your day off tomorrow, because there would be little sleep for you tonight.
Click to expand...


*is now melted Drea-puddle* :drool: :drool: :combust: :faint:
 
bonofromtheellipse102505.jpg


I took this. :wink:
From the ellipse Tuesday night. :wink:

Yeah, it's out of focus. And maybe it looks better as my camera phone's wall paper. But I was there and I took it, dammit!
 
Sad_Girl said:
conan4_3.jpg


It’s been a long night, but well worth it, you think. An evening of schmoozing the spoiled rotten celebrities who are, unfortunately, a necessity in your line of work. Oh, they’re not all bad, you remind yourself. It’s just the ones who think their celebrity status means you owe them something. The ones who spend more on a handbag than many of the people in your old hometown earned in a year.

You slip out of your ridiculously shaped high heels, your feet sinking into the thick, plush carpeting as you move into the living room. You let down your hair and flip the light-switch off, preparing to relax for awhile before finding your bed and indulging in several hours of sleep. At least, with the party behind you, you can take a day off tomorrow. Suddenly, you realize you aren’t as alone as you’d thought.

You turn to face the couch and find him sitting there smiling at you, his eyes washing down the length of you appreciatively. He left. You know he left, you tell yourself. Yet, there he is, still wearing the leather jacket which you had helped him put on a short while ago, when he said he was leaving.

“What are you doing here?” You ask dumbly, your shoes dangling loosely from one hand, your other hand combing through your hair reflexively.

“I realized something.” He tells you, his posh accent as smooth as well aged whiskey.

“And that is…?” You ask, your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

“I realized…” he says, smacking his lips as he pauses to shrug out of his jacket. “That you didn’t want me to leave.”

You feel as if the room is spinning wildly around you. You and he are the only two things which remain fixed in one place. Him on the couch, you standing a few feet away, staring at him in open mouthed surprise.

“Excuse me?” You ask, managing to sound offended by the insinuation that you had been flirting with him so boldly. How could he just come right out and say something like that? You may have found some enjoyment in the possibility of him remaining after the other guests had gone, but how could he know you’d been thinking that?

“No reason to apologize.” He tells you with a smirk, leaning back against the couch with an exaggerated ease. He rests one muscular arm across the back of the couch, making a perfect place for you to sit snuggled up against him. “I wanted to stay, too. Though, you might’ve made yourself a bit more clear. I wouldn’t have had to leave at all, if you hadn’t waited until you said good-bye to let me know how you felt.”

“I – What did I -?” You stammer, still shocked at his audacity. You want to be angry with him. You ought to slap him across the face, tell him to leave before you call security. You won’t though. Your whole body is alive with anticipation, just being alone with him this way.

“Now.” He says, cocking his head to the side. “Are you going to stand there awhile longer, or are you going to join me?” Without a thought you feel your feet move across the soft carpet, your hands let go of the unwanted shoes. You can’t speak, you can barely breathe; your chest is practically heaving by the time you’ve closed the distance. He watches you with half lowered lids, obviously interested in every move of your body. You stop in front of him, your eyes locking with his.

After a torturously long moment, he leans forward, a massive hand sliding around your waist to find the center of your back and pulls you down onto his lap. He lifts your chin with two fingers on the other hand and kisses you, almost chastely, on the lips. Your arms slide around his neck and your eyes flutter shut, but not before you see that smirk once more. His lips cover your finally, in a slow, sensual kiss full of promises.

Promises that he was not one of those selfish celebrities who you loathed. Promises that he was not leaving until you told him to go. Promises that you would need your day off tomorrow, because there would be little sleep for you tonight.
Click to expand...

*not thinking about the Adam smile....not thinking about the Adam smile*

Bono's still the one. Really. I'm not thinking about Edge and Adam. :shifty: :angry:


:wink:
 
VintagePunk said:


*not thinking about the Adam smile....not thinking about the Adam smile*

Bono's still the one. Really. I'm not thinking about Edge and Adam. :shifty: :angry:


:wink:
Click to expand...


You may as well give in now and join us VP - the few, the proud, the :adam: girls *smirks* :sexywink:
 
VintagePunk said:


*not thinking about the Adam smile....not thinking about the Adam smile*

Bono's still the one. Really. I'm not thinking about Edge and Adam. :shifty: :angry:


:wink:
Click to expand...

That sexy Adam smile I was mere feet from on the 25th? The smile I kept looking at? The smile that made me keep waving at the Silver Fox and saying "Hi, Adam!" even though I knew he was busy and couldn't hear me?

Me, think about that smile? Naaah. I'm still a Bono girl. I'm always still thinking of what to do next with my B, of course.

:shifty:

:wink:
 
And there's the time change *G* I'm going to head to bed and enjoy the extra hour of sleep.. g'night all :hug: I think I'm bound to have sweet dreams after SG's cap! :wink:

Once again...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SG!
 
Bye, SG! Have a happy birthday!

And I think I may have to go to bed myself ... I have about a dozen things to do, I feel I should go to work and church, and one of my girlfriends wants me to go see "The Weatherman" with Nicolas Cage at 4 besides it all. :shrug:

:wave:
 
Sad_Girl said:
evenmore171.jpg


You can tell he’s planning something, just by looking at him. He’s got that smirk on his face. You’ve seen it once or twice before, and the memories of those times make you want to smile, too. The man is such a flirt, you can hardly stand it. He loves to tease you, to see if he can make you blush. Which he does. Often.

“Psst. C’mere.” He calls to you, crooking a finger at you, still smirking wickedly, his gorgeous blue eyes shifting from side to side to see if anyone is watching. You approach hesitantly, knowing you’re likely to end up with a heart ache. You always do. He flirts, teases and plays, but never follows through. And your pride won’t let you tell him how badly you want him to follow through.

“What?” You ask, feigning impatience. As if you could ever have something better or more important to do than be with him. He smiles at you playfully, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you around the corner with him into a dimly lit corridor. You can tell he’s been drinking, both by the way he carries himself and the slight bitter scent of beer on his breath as he leans in close to your face and whispers conspiratorially.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He says, and every muscle in your body tenses in anticipation, even if your mind is immediately working to prove to your eager body that he has no intention of doing anything like *that*.

“Really?” You manage to ask, your throat feeling dry, suddenly. Your voice is a hoarse whisper and you lick your dry lips self-consciously. “What’s that?” You ask, your voice only slightly stronger this time.

He smiles at you, stepping in close and making you take an instinctive step back. He chuckles under his breath at you and you frown back at him. He advances again and this time you stand your ground.

“Close your eyes.” He tells you, his whiskey burned voice hot and wet in your ear. You can feel the heat radiating from his broad chest as he stands so close to you there’s less than an inch of air seperating your bodies. You hesitate for a moment, but he’s watching you closely and grinning, waiting for you to play along. You might be a fool, but you do. You close your eyes and he whispers again, his breath hot against the skin of your neck this time.

You bite your lip to keep from whimpering, your body aching with need from simply standing so close to him. He sways slightly, his balance a little uneven from drinking, and his chest brushes feather light against your own, but you know he felt the way your nipples tented the soft fabric of your shirt; felt the brush of hard flesh against his skin. Maybe if he would button his shirt once in awhile, you think defensively, but immediately your skin flushes even hotter at the thought of his naked chest peaking out from under the white silk shirt.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod slightly, your eyes still closed tight. You can feel him moving, but aren’t certain what he’s up too until you feel something brush against your lips. You gasp in shock, and when your lips part you feel his finger slide in between them slightly, brushing over the tender skin of your lower lip. Your mouth begins to water as soon as the taste of whipped cream, Coffee and Irish Whiskey. You smile instinctively and open your eyes. He remembered.

The intamacy of the moment doubles as you realize that he remembered the conversation you’d had in which you suggested cold Irish Coffee was possibly your favorite thing in the world. He smiles at you now, his face maybe three inches from yours, his head bowed toward yours.

You lean forward slightly, your hand rising to take him by the wrist and hold his hand in place as you close your mouth over the length of his finger and slowly lick it clean. You hear his breathing grow rapid and shallow, feel his body tense next to yours and it hits you like a bolt of lightning. He wants you. He wants you the way you have wanted him for so long. You’re more intoxicated by this revelation than if you’d been drinking all night. The moment you lean back, releasing his hand, his mouth closes over yours, his hand in your hair, and the entire length of his body is pressed hard against yours.

He kisses you hard, his lips firm, his tongue demanding, deep and rough as his free hand breeches the soft fabric of your shirt to find your soft skin with his slightly callused fingers. You break the kiss, gasping for air and letting your head fall back against your shoulders, your eyes directed unseeing toward the ceiling. He’s moaning softly, his lips against the soft skin at the base of your neck, the heat and vibration from his voice rushing through you like a wildfire.

Your hand laces up into his soft, shaggy hair and you breath in deeply; loving the way he smells. You also love the way his stubbled cheek feels as is it brushes against kiss sensitive flesh. He murmers sweetly as he traces a line of kisses down your chest, sinking to his knees before you to kiss your belly. His hands are on your hips possesively as he looks up at you and you see the look in his eye. Your lips part slightly in shock and your body floods with heat in anticipation of his next move…
Click to expand...

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