Monday, 23 March 2015
Morocco was amazing! I wish I could go back now, but - so much other stuff to do this year. Cry face. But look! That's a swimming pool, in front of what looks like a replica of the Arc de Triumph in Paris. My brain could not comprehend! My brain after a half bottle of smooth Moroccan red wine couldn't, however, sober Billy would not have either.
I soaked it all in. Mainly food. And sunshine. Learned a lot about the Berber traditions and the origins of kohl (I have been ringing my eyes in the stuff every night since and regretting the effort it takes to get it off) and I saw the possibilities of romance everywhere. In the rose petals scattered over the pillows after housekeeping. The enormous meals made for sharing. The horses who drew carriages, trotting calmly beside some of the most reckless driving I have ever witnessed. The hammams and massages, and the argan oil I have smuggled in bulk back to the UK. Working out the Dirham to Pound conversion rate whilst trying on a ridiculous amount of kaftans and dining in some of the most incredible settings I've been privileged to see. To stand at the end of the road of my hotel to photograph the glorious Atlas mountains and feel in awe of the beauty of just a small part of the world, made me wish I hadn't left my laptop at home. But then again, I really needed to sleep especially after I had all the knots rolled out of my back and shoulders.
Not that I don't already know this, I really do need to travel more. I live in Europe. I have no excuse. Yo Denmark! When's your weather going to cheer up? You know I only do sun, right??
Thursday, 12 March 2015
I'll admit, I'm finding it hard to concentrate. I'm cold, I'm eating far too much and you know, unapologetic racist behaviours interfering with my flow. In any case, I'm off to Morocco for a little sojourn and you know travel is good for my soul and Hank's blood pressure.
It's not Italian and it's not even Season of Love, but this is what I've been writing about and I'm more likely to finish this than anything else in the meantime.
Like Fire © Billy London
Blue and white lights blinkered from behind her lids. She wondered for a moment if she’d fallen asleep at a rave. The noises filtered into focus slowly. It hurt to open her eyes. It really hurt. Everywhere. Everything. As if each nerve ending, bruised, bled into one another until she existed only as a single cell of agony. Who is talking so much? Why are they shouting at me?
“Don’t worry lovey. Fire brigade is on the way.”
“But I didn’t cook anything,” she murmured. Ooh. It hurt to take a breath. She closed her eyes again and drifted off somewhere much more inviting than the pain festival going on in her body. Darkness. Bliss. Oh no. Noise again.
“Miss?” Someone touched a soft, padded finger to her face. “Miss?” No, because if she woke up, the pain would start again. “Hello, that’s good. Stay awake.” She blinked several times. The yellow of the speaker’s helmet stung her vision. “What’s your name?” He asked.
“I know a Taemar.”
“Hmm,” she muttered, clearing her throat and trying to focus her sight. “Biblical. My dad… He... Only ever picked up a bible… At his wedding. Added a letter when he found out what happened to Bible Tamar. Not good...”
The effort was too great. She made to close her eyes again but the soft material returned to her face. “Hey, hey, Taemar. Stay awake. Keep your eyes on me.”
And her energy drink substitute had very pretty eyes. Lashes like a girl with falsies on. “What?”
“You’ve had an accident. We can’t get you out right now. The doors are crushed in on both sides.”
“Does that mean I can sleep?”
“No, we’ve got to get you out and get you to hospital. We’re going to cut through them in a minute. My friends are doing the other side so they can get you out. This side is too close to your body and we’re worried we’ll cut you. Can you get your seatbelt?”
She frowned, lifting an arm that seemed boneless to jab weakly at the release. “Did I put a belt on?”
“You did, you clever girl. Can you undo it for me?”
Taemar had the most unfortunate flashback to an ex and his struggle with some bondage ropes. The release refused to spring the belt free. Obviously it was man made and as stubborn as buggery. A metal cutter roared into life and the man shouted above the noise, repeating his question. Sparks flew over the passenger seat of her car and she turned away from it. He lifted his helmet back a bit to edge his head inside the car. She could hear him better. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Superman. Marauding as your local friendly fireman. Jack. I’m Jack.” Oh god, she was going to die in her stupid car. Tears prickled at her eyes. “Look at me,” Jack’s voice demanded nothing less than total obedience. His eyes, a strange mix of amber and olive green, blazed confidence. “Do I look worried?” His face set, serious, but completely assured. Not a single doubt evidenced from the arch of his brows, or the turn of his lips. She shook her head slowly and carefully. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, all right?”
“Okay. Oh my god, I’m naked.”
Jack didn’t say anything and she looked to his face. His lips were tucked in and his eyes were wide with guile. “Hadn’t noticed.”
“There’s a green nipple tassel on my wheel. The other one is hanging off my tit. They looked nice.”
His eyes darted around the car. “Erm… Yes?”
“You asking or agreeing?”
“Stop that.” He blushed. Amongst the shadow on his angular face, a sunset rose blush bloomed on his hard looking cheeks.
“You told me to stay awake. And talking is keeping me… up.”
“Not about breasts!”
“Why? I can’t look. Are they scarred?” She felt panic rising in her. “Am I breast-disfigured? Please don’t say I am. I love my boobs. They’re the best thing about me.”
Jack gave a heavy sigh. “They’re a little scratched from the glass but that’s all.”
“What? No lift, size, shape comment? Are you a eunuch?”
“For all that is sacred, I wish I was right now.”
She chuckled. Huge mistake. Laughter was not her friend or healer right now.
“Did that hurt?” Jack asked. Instead of the pressure on her ribs and back, she stared at Jack’s jaw line. It was edible. Something nice and firm to nibble on in the throes of passion. Good distraction, but not much she could do about it. Actually, sex got her into this mess. Or rather, the potential for it. De-tassled in a crushed car, all because she wanted to surprise Peter. How sad.
“Talk to me,” she begged. “Tell me something funny.”
“I have a terrible sense of humour.”
She sent him a look. “Everyone has a sense of humour. Everyone. Now, tell me something amusing. Chop chop.”
“When I went out on my first call, I… I knocked myself - in a faint.”
Taemar frowned. “That’s… that’s just sad.”
“Er… This neighbourhood cat…”
“Okay when I was younger, I had too much of a sweet tooth. My mum told me if I didn’t stop, my penis wouldn’t work properly. Haven’t touched sweets since.”
The laughter that burst from her lips swiftly followed such intense pain, bile rose in her throat. “Taemar, I’m so sorry, but we’re almost done. We’ll have you out in a jiffy.”
“Jiffy?” she repeated. “You’re an old soul, aren’t you?” She couldn’t stop herself. Tears ran unhindered down her face, dripping onto her skin.
“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, you’re almost out.”
“I’m not crying. My eyes just leak a bit. With pity. For your sweet-affected peepee.”
The passenger seat door, the remains of her passenger seat door was lifted away. Jack disappeared from her side, but instantaneously loomed in on her left, snipping huge pliers through her seatbelt. Huge arms slid behind her back and underneath her thighs before he lifted her from the wreckage with ease. “There we are. You’re all right, Taemar.”
“Thank you.” She whimpered. “Best entertainment I’ve had all week.”
Tuesday, 3 March 2015
So it seems my attempt at a poll on Facebook has failed - because I don't seem to understand how to obtain my results, and like a cat in a sun spot, I feel unmoved to start over or to change it. I can see from the number of views on this blog as to the more popular stories from the Season of Love of 2015, and I will take those hints (broadly made and definitively made) and write until I can writes no mores!
With that in mind, I've compiled a soundtrack to keep you all distracted until I can get some wordage down. Each story has it's own track and I think it all fits together perfectly...
Playlist for Season of Love Vol. 2
- Camera's Gaze You're the One that I Want by Lo-Fang
- The Non Rebound Hours by FKA Twigs
- Good Girl Trying Out Bad First Love by The Maccabees
- Dance To Date Start Over by Kimberly Anne
- Warming Up Make You Feel My Love by Adele
- Skye's Sabotage I Can't Give You Anything But Love by Smokey Robinson
- Something Old, Something New Pray For Love by Kwabs
- La Vita Loca Love by Dan Hyde
- Blessing In Plain Sight On Into The Night by Paul Thomas Saunders
- Treasured Treasure by Bruno Mars
- Chocolate Offers Grow by Rae Morris
- The Tease Every Little Word by MNEK
- Come Back To Me Come Back by Us The Duo
- Stars and Moon (I Can't Help) Falling In Love With You by UB40