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Dropping By

Written by WhitePaw :: [Friday, 19 August 2005 14:18] Last updated by :: [Wednesday, 19 December 2012 18:26]

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Dropping By

 

by Whitepaw

 

 

 

She held the diamond necklace up in the streetlight and smiled warmly. It was the first genuine gesture any boy had ever made to her … the Girl, not the Power. She’d played it cool for once: no powers, baggy, frumpy clothes, makeup haphazardly …

 

It was just a tiny fleck of a stone, what she could have ground up from just a pinch of carbon between her fingers but –

 

The cab dropped her off at his door. It was a strange feeling, considering she could effortlessly return the favor.

 

She’d always wanted to ‘just come over’ some time, no missions, no bomb threats, nobody falling off buildings. Such simple pleasures regular people with regular friends enj –

 

She wasn’t regular.

 

She stood stunned on his doorstep, the echo of the doorbell still sweeping over his small apartment in the moment.

 

She could see through walls, hear heartbeats … sheets rustle … smell perfume waft …

 

Time strobed.

 

They stood frozen in each other’s eyes, framed across the door.

 

Moments skipped.

 

The other woman hung with his sheets on his shoulder, a Ferrari in flesh and skin, everything the frump of a woman on the doorstep … wasn’t.

 

Twenty years worth of obsessive human thoughts flashed through her mind like lightning in those two thunderous heartbeats.

 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I just needed – ”

 

“Shhh … shhh – ” Her finger rose softly to her warmly smiling lips. “Shhhh … ”

 

The dull brown lipstick came off on the back of her hand, makeup wiped off onto the back of her sweatshirt sleeve. Her lips were crimson, her face radiant, flawless.

 

The other woman raised an eyebrow. He just stood, confused.

 

“I understand, Phil.” She shook the bobby pins from her hair, letting her gold bangs return to frame her face. “I see it all the time, really. Her sweatshirt came off over her head. “I was just hoping you were different.” She pulled her sweater over her head. “You were just so nice … ” She pulled a third sweater off over her head. “I was my fault, really.” A fourth sweater came off as easily as the other three. “I was going to show you … someday.”

 

The cigarette fell absently from his mouth as her breasts strained to burst from the cutout in her white pleather cat suit like twin leashed bulldogs. His eyes stalled there, but his lady friend’s eyes scowled down enough chiseled curves to trouble any rock climber.

 

“Damn … ” He exclaimed involuntarily as she struck him with the full wrecking-ball force of her beauty.

 

“Nice costume.” His woman scoffed. “Bit early for Halloween though … ”

 

“You must understand,” She turned to the woman over his shoulder. “What it’s like to be … ” She stepped out of her sweat pants and in through the door frame and shrugged her red cape down her back. “ … built.”

 

She snapped off the necklace he’d given her. “Guys trying any sappy thing … ” Smoke curled between her fingers as she ground it with her thumb. “ … just for a cheap … ” She smeared out a Chinese ‘li’ character across her breasts in diamond-flaked gold. “ … feel.”

 

She cinched up her blue satin gloves and took them each by a hand to feel her nearly stone-hard breasts.

 

“For once I would like to give these to some man … ”

 

She had the casual strength of a sixty-ton bulldozer as she swept their hands down the suicide curves of her body.

 

“ … a man who could love my heart, the person that I am … ”

 

Their breath grew choppy, gasping as she slipped their fingers beneath the high cut of her bikini to feel her marble-hard cheeks.

 

The woman gasped. “Holy – ”

 

“All day long it’s boys.” In a blink she had a cigarette in her lips from the woman’s shirt pocket and the gold lighter in her fingers. “Adolescent … ”

 

She slipped the lighter slowly between her breasts, savoring their disturbed expressions.

 

“Childish … ”

 

She pulsed her pecs, crunching the lighter like a cockroach between bowling balls. The acrid smell of propane leapt off her chest, quickly vanishing as she inhaled it.

 

“Boys.”

 

She flicked the unlit cigarette away, lavishing in a narrow-eyed smile, smoke curling from her nostrils.

 

Just once I’d like to … really … ” Her eyes flashed sinister as her gaze fell on the now frightened woman. She took her by the skull over his shoulder, pressing him between her paranormal and the other woman’s plastic pair of breasts … and kissed her.

 

Kissed her like sucking down ripe watermelon: long, slow, and slurpy.

 

“Mmnn!?” The woman squeaked in surprise … swooned into the deliciousness of it all.

 

His hands … flailed involuntarily over flesh, marble … whatever.

 

The woman’s eyes opened, shocked, then melted closed again. Her body began to throb and twitch as the kiss lingered on. Her hands too began to flail over any handy flesh.

 

Lips parted like dew on a spiderweb.

 

“ … Kiss someone.” She breathed in frost.

 

The woman collapsed against the hallway wall, still dazed, twitching, groping.

 

“I even showed you where I live.” She held him up against her, guiding his trembling fingers beneath the front seams of her crotch.

 

“I’ve never … ” She wiped the other woman’s sweat and drool off her breasts with his face … slowly … warmly, then drug him back out to arm’s length.

 

“And you couldn’t.”

 

He collapsed to a drooling, soaking crotch mess on his wobbling knees as she released him.

 

She pulled the fused piece of cigarette lighter from her cleavage and tossed it in his lap. “That’ll have to do.”

 

“Wait…” His shaking hand reached out to her, and fell back in fearful awe as her toes lifted off the ground. “Forgive … ” He collapsed in fear against his still moaning girlfriend.

 

“Goodbye, Phil.” There was an angelic echo to her voice as she hovered over them in the black night frame of the doorway, hands on her seemingly German engineered hips. “Hope you get your needs … ” She flexed an enormous pair of biceps. “Met.”

 

And she was gone.

 

Minutes passed in hot and cold running tremble.

 

Phil’s color came and went in the streetlight gloom of the open doorway.

 

“Where … ” His moaning girlfriend finally sat up. “ … does she … live?”

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