Short stories.

Miss Jackson.

When she left, it was the early hours of a Saturday morning. He laid in the bed, fully clothed under the stained white bedsheets and still highly intoxicated from the previous night. The moon shone in through the window, gently illuminating the room through the smoke that wavered around. Carefully, she extracted herself from the space beside him and he watched as she sat up, her back moving into a sleek curve as she stretched herself out. Her body was carefully defined; the curve of her hips gently dipping in and up to her breasts, making her stand out against the pure darkness of the room. Even though he was confused, his mind clouded through what he inhaled and injected, he knew that she was beautiful. He reached his arm out, his hand shaking and traced his fingers down her spine until they reached the top of her buttocks. With a slight movement, her body tensed and her hips moved forward, so he could only keep the faintest touch on her.

“Where are you off to, Miss?” He asked, his voice gruff from the lack of sleep and the amount of smoke that hid in his lungs.

“I need to be waking up elsewhere.” She replied, her voice sounding pure against all the previous happenings.

“Where might that be?”

“Elsewhere.”

She leant over the side of the bed, her buttocks more prominent as she carefully picked out her dress from the mess of needles and wrappers. God, did he want her. With ease, she stretched the material of her dress and begun to pull it over her head, her body doing a slight wiggle as she attempted to pull the skin-tight material down her naked body. The black material was no further than her breastbone when he sat up, suddenly craving to have her for himself. He pressed his chest against her back, hips digging into her as he grabbed her breast, stopping her from moving the material down to cover herself any lower.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” He whispered, the smoke on his breath hitting her nose as he gently slid his fingers under the material. ­­­­

“I don’t think that’s necessary right now.” She replied before putting her hand on his and attempting to remove his grasp.

“I do.”

He used his other hand to clutch at her hip, gripping in tight despite her trying to force him to release himself. He needed her- his body craving to break free of the clothing that was restricting his desires. As he begun to push his hips into her back, his fingers slightly eased off, needing to have her in a more violent way.

“I really do have to go…” She said to the ground as she suddenly stood, escaping his grip and running to the door still under-dressed. “Don’t worry about payment for that.”

“No.” He smiled. “I don’t think you do.” 

“I do, I do.” Her voice was flustered as she struggled to tug her dress over her rigid frame.  “I have a job that I need to get to.”

Carefully, he eased himself up off the bed, a sinister smile creeping across his face. His large hands move to his belt, fumbling with the buckle that she did up for him earlier. Her eyes went wide when she realised what he was doing, and her hand quickly moved to the door handle, hopelessly attempting to open it. She turned her body, allowing both hands to grip onto the rusted doorknob and pull, crying out as he approached her. His hands gently slid around her waist as his pushed his body against hers with a gently kiss on her shoulder.

“This is your only job right now.” He mumbled.

His stubble scratched at her skin as his hands clambered up her thighs, his palm sweaty against her legs. She attempted to resist his forcing but his body pressed closer, forcing her up against the door until she could barely breathe.