the alive

Garret

Kisses her against the reinforced steel doorway between the dark damp smell of the exterior hallway and the warm clean brightness of Patricia's foyer. Shadows crawl across her breasts and ribs and belly soft light brown pubic hair. She steps back to take a woozy breath. He attacks her flesh. Her exposure. Rough fingers. Hard grips. Lips kiss lips kiss chins lick cheeks touch tongues. Suck upon the senses of intuition. For him, her body emanates Cixous jouissance. He can smell the night's aftermath on her breath but her body smells delicious. Intoxicating. Patricia's ripe with the scent of carved apples and fallen ash mixed with hard packed snow. His body begs and his hands plead. Presses his mouth to her breast. Sucks in her nipple and chews her areola. Her eyes panic and roll back into her face. He guides her hand upon his growth. Sculpture underneath his black pants. Sweaty. Smegma. He smells terrible. Knows she's so drunk that it doesn't matter. Pulls his sculpture out and lifts her foot to touch it with her toes. Pulls his pants down. Rubs it's nasty scent against her loins in the doorway. She moans. Rubs her crotch with the head.  Becomes slick. Slowly penetrates her. She gasps and her open mouth lingers. Patricia wraps her legs around him. Places her hands behind her head for stability and grip. Holds herself up by the top of the door casing. Flexes hard arms and torso between the two worlds of the foyer and exterior hallway like she's in the middle of a portal. Bends her knees. Lifts her legs. Slaps her feet onto his chest. Her pushes her legs wider. Bashes his hips roughly into her crotch. Pounds her into the door casing. Grips her ass to hold her up. She groans. Her slickness oozes down his sculpture. He can smell it. Salty carved apple mixed with his own unwashed stench. The sway of the smell is enough to bring him to explosion within her. He continues as she makes tiny moans until his motion slowly becomes less intense and then he has to stop. Keeps his sculpture within her for another warm moment. Her feet slide off of his chest and her arms drop and her head falls to one side. Garret then recognizes that Patricia has passed out while still moaning in short breaths.

Places his sculpture across her face. Grips her hair in fists. Slaps her with weeks of unwashed stench. Rams it into her open mouth and down her throat. She gags unconsciously. Scrotum slaps her chin over and over. Knows she can't breath. Continues anyway. Hates her for leaving. Loves her like bullets. Explodes into her mouth. Pulls out. Patricia falls over. Lays motionless on the floor. Wheezing. Unconscious coughs.

The former Grand Ghost steps out of his pants from his ankles after kicking off his discoloured worn flay lace combat boots. Lifts Patricia into his veiny arms. Carries his used unconscious apple inside the apartment. Closes the door with his foot. Knows where the bedroom exists and takes her to it. Drops her onto the bed. She's dripping. Sticky. Rolls her under the covers. She farts and coughs.

Garret wonders what she'll think when she wakes up in the morning. Will she remember anything? Will she think it was a dream? The proof is between her legs and in her mouth. His body oder and unwashed sauce is all over her. He hasn't showered for days. The mission has been too all encompassing. He wasn't expecting what just happened which is probably why that doorway encounter was the best sex he's had in years. Patricia should leave him more often.

Strips his shirt off and uses her white one piece prefab shower to find clarity after such a spurring moment in the fog of pleasure. Soaps himself in her apple body wash. Pinches his pierced nipples and thinks about the towel dropping and the stunning look on her face. The shape of shadows moving across her nudity. The feel of her feet against him. The long soft hair of her armpits. Brown drunken eyes rolling into the back of her head. Her sex voice. Regrets taking her for granted. Regrets a lot of things. But not having his way with her tonight.

Thinks about what he's learned since Patricia left him. The information he acquired about David's whereabouts. It seems unbelievable. A former surgeon who performed work on Nigel Leonard was in contact with a friend of Garrets. A subordinate of Malice who was a spy in the other first reality. He knew Garret was still hunting David and so for a few vodkas and a promise to talk to Janice about letting him come home, the information was tossed to him. He lied, of course. He has no influence over the new Grand Ghost. He can try talking to her though. He has to.