A Love Story

Man Who Sold The World

The Man Who Sold The World

–

Anakin's alarm went off, hitting harder than the bursts of sunlight through the folds of muslin curtains. Anakin turned it off and rolled over toward Padme. His arm tightened around her, dragging her closer. He crawled on top, his upper body on hers and resting his head on her breast, craving to embrace the large softness, like a pillow.

"I don't want to go." He grumbled, too tired to get up and go to work. Padme would say he was overworked and too busy, but he seemed to love feeling occupied, resourceful, and significant.

Her arms were soft wings across his back, wrapping him in a light bundle of maternal devotion, a coat of arms in the crescent, half-circle of her wholesome cuddle that rocks and heals with the caress of the sun, the wind, the entire world. The early misty morning spread its pink hue over his masculine shoulder blades. She indulged in the view of the golden natural tan coating his strong, graceful muscular physique.

"So quit." She said idly as her fingers sunk into his hair – just what he needed. "Stay in bed with me all day. Let me take care of you." Their sleepiness tumbled out of their almost whiny voices, while her hands continued to play with his unruly, rogue hair strands.

"I wish." He mumbled into her breast over her cotton nightgown; her puckered nipple poking out through the lace trim. With two willowy fingers, he pulled her nightgown down to peek at her nipple, followed by kisses and nibbles, dreamy and fantastic as his mouth laved its way to her other nipple and its surrounding beauty.

"Gotta go!" He reluctantly slid out of bed like a clumsy snake, putting one lazy foot in front of the other to the walk-in closet.

"You need to be back here by noon." She called after him, slowing his step and eventually anchoring it. He turned back to face her.

"The ultrasound, remember?" She answered the expression on his face awash with confusion.

He nodded. "I'll pick you up at 11.30!"

–

With no time to waste, Anakin sat behind his desk. He was slammed into reality as he observed the files fanned out in front of him. "Why are all these files from another firm mixed up in here?"

Ventress sat on the edge of her desk with her legs crossed. She wore a sleek suit and a wide, stretchy black belt hooked to her slacks and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her clutch covered in buttery-yellow butterflies. Her look was contradictory, a chameleon, and aggressively dazzling with the attire to match, a protective layer of stoicism and style.

"That's your homework." She pressed the tip of a cigarette to her lips and lit up, inhaling as she stared off ahead. She had turned off the smoke alarm. "The other firm is Gunray. Palpatine's biggest competitor. And as Sheev's new PI, it's your job to know everything going on in that firm."

"I thought the whole point of a PI was to do clients' requests."

"Sometimes. You do get the odd client wanting you to spy on his cheating wife with the pool boy." Ventress let out a croaky laugh that aged her voice before her time — thanks to obsessive cigarette smoking in her adolescence. That laugh put a lump in Anakin's throat as spurts of his affair with Miraj choked his memories. He found himself longing for a cigarette to somehow turn the past into ashes. He quickly snapped the feeling shut with his indolence suppressing his concentration, and Ventress continued, unwittingly making him leave those thoughts in the dark.

"But in this case, your goal is to find out what Gunray knows. He and Sheev were constantly fighting over clients. In fact, the last case they were both involved with got kinda ugly. Sheev recently fired the last PI we had because he took a job with Gunray."