Blood Tint – Part 1

This is the start of a story, perhaps a short story, perhaps a novella. I don’t know which yet. I posted first to Twitter it first under the hashtag #Tint, and will likely continue doing that for a while. This is really a tease, to get both me and the story going. But each part will be flash size or thereabouts. However long they tell me to be. –M

Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mercurialn/391838904/


Blood Tint, Part 1

“Relax, Alak. Nothing’s going to bite you.”

Daci’s words were old and familiar. She’d repeated them countless times as we’d begun evening walks. And, as countless times before, her words worked. I took a deep breath, and held tight to her arm in mine.

“I know, I know.” Another familiar refrain. I could let Daciana walk the sunset alone. Just like she could let me walk sunrise alone. But we don’t. Each for the other, a gift we give every day we can. I will admit, that in this part of the world the reds of sunset are often richer and more long lasting than the blush of dawn.

The sun had just set, the sky a glowing crimson, but I was was my jumpy dusk self as we walked along the Soho street, still wearing my sunglasses. Spring was definitely coming, and we’d already started talking about going south soon, but were undecided about the muggy equator or winter in Chirstchurch or Johannesburg. We had a few weeks left to think about it, but an early blow of warm weather following the last major gales of March made New York feel, for a brief moment, like a city of much lower latitude – close and steamy. The restaurants and galleries took notice seizing the opportunity to throw open their doors and waft cooking smells and music and light into the puddled street. We weren’t terribly hungry. Soon, though.

Daci and I weren’t headed anywhere in particular, allowing my feet to guide us where they may. She’s more solicitous toward me in spring evenings as the sun keeps eating further into the night. There was a good jazz club a few blocks down, and I had half a mind to pass the early evening there. It was a good place for finding-

“Daci?”

Daci stood frozen in midstride, pale face upturned. Her eyes and mouth were closed, but the rise and fall of her petite chest told me she was sniffing the air intently.

“Mmm. I smell something. Something delicious.” The tone of her voice immediately caught my attention, as did the flush on her face. She wasn’t talking about restaurants or bakeries.

Her nose is so much better than mine, especially when I’m not hunting, and I know better than to question it.

“Where?” I asked, and Daci nodded diagonally across the street. The bright, clean lights of a gallery spilled out of the plate glass street window and open door. Dirty jazz and the sound of people. A show opening.

“Shall we go see?”

She nodded, and, still arm in arm we crossed the street. Daci’s gait changed as she moved, becoming more fluid and swaying. Predatory. I couldn’t help but to catch her excitement.

{Continued in Part 2}

Categories: Erotica, Flash, Monocle, Multi-part StoryTags: , , , , ,

Monocle

I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.

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