Creative Writing Fragments.

INSPO - k, technically doesn't have any, it was just floating around in my head.

Powdery skin, my powdery skin, hot and sweaty beneath my clothes. She'd been watching me the whole time, I'd swear it until my dying breath, watching me and waiting for me to notice. Of course I had noticed, a pretty girl staring at me wasn't rare, but one like her was.

I watched my reflection scowl in the window, my breath fogging up the space inches from my mouth. This was what people saw, my scowls and my grins, my frowns  and all my other rehearsed emotions. It was fake, but that's what I was paid for, so they had to be.

A white dress, made for summer and  made to stand out in the dark of the room. She had been practically begging for my attention. And the way she had raised her eyebrow when I met her teasing gaze, yes, I was her goal. But was my attention all she had wanted? I didn't think so.

I slammed my hand against the glass, listening to the panes shake and complain at my harsh treatment. It was a weak punch, the type I'd been taught to throw so that no damage would be done to my hand or to whoever was on the other end of it. How could everything about me be so fake?

She probably hadn't even known that I could actually see her. But the surety of her smile, no, she had known. Even if it hadn't been at the time it happened, she had to have known after. People like me don't just pick up girls like her at random, she knew there was something.

Why was she still on my mind? It had been quick and it had been almost a joke for the both of us. But then why couldn't I seem to forget her, she was always just raising her eyebrow at me again and again in the back of my mind, waiting for me to come back to god knows where we had been.

She hadn't even said anything as I brought her into the room and closed the door, she had been waiting and she was ready. I don't even think  we said anything at all, there was this mutual feeling, we both wanted the same thing and we were damned willing to give it.

Nothing, we had said nothing. I could've tried reasoning that she just wanted to talk but that's as much a lie as saying she didn't know who I was. She had known what she had wanted and I had been more than happy to give it to her, and that's all she had wanted.

The room had heated up fast, the mirrors fogging up in only a few minutes. We were both sweaty messes when we were done, hair more than tangled and breath more than out, but that hadn't stopped either of our departures.

I hit the window again and turned away. I couldn't even look at myself anymore. I'd heard the term one night stand  hundreds of times, but I hadn't even used a night, much less an hour. Was that wrong or right? I couldn't say, but I just know that it had felt  right.

Standing in the door she tugged her dress into place and left with an exasperated wink, leaving me feeling like this was her normal routine and she was the one that had shamelessly used me. The door snapping shut and her heels clicking into oblivion, I realized that that was probably the  way of it.

Her name, I hadn't even gotten her name. Was that  wrong? Should I have learnt it so that I could've been able to put her face to the name? Should I have gotten a name so that I could've forgotten both together? Should I have gotten a name because that's what you're meant to do in these situations?

Or should I have gotten her name so that I could find her again?