Edge of Desire (On Hold)

Chapter One: Your Body Is A Wonderland

Edge of Desire

  Chapter One: Your Body Is A Wonderland

The classical rock music was playing in the background drifting through the mostly empty bar. But then again it was almost two in the early hours. The lights were dim and there were only a few people loitering around. Posters and old black and white photos of rock legends and brands of beer were hung on the cabin like walls. But the bar had character, something that most bars these days lacked.

"Please don't cry sweet heart, he's not worth spit let alone your tears. He's a no good pretty boy whereas you are a beautiful successful young lady who doesn't see her worth. You need to be cherished for all you are, not stomped on over and over again. Only the best of people deserve the greatest things. And Alison, that boy was anything but the best."

A wobbly sigh escaped the confines of her lips before she sniffed and looked up, taking a tissue from the box offered by the burly man behind the bar. "Thanks Mickey, and I know it seems really stupid of me to cry over him but he seemed so different with me. Anthony was always so different when it was just the two of us. It's like he changes around other people and tries to act like this big shot low life. But I assure you, Mickey, this stunt was the last straw. We're through. Done with and he shall be the skeleton at the back of my closet never to be shown in daylight again. You're right, he doesn't deserve these tears." She lifted her chin in determination, but no matter how many times she would try and tell herself that the tears wouldn't cease. Her shoulders dropped, her head dropping down too. "I just can't get the picture of them two together out of my head. How could she do that? She's supposed to be my friend!"

Mickey let out a sigh before sliding over a shot glass filled with amber colour liquid to her. "Loosen up kiddo. Usually I would say alcohol wouldn't solve anything, but with the amount of things you have handled in one night you deserve to forget some. On the house, don't tell your dad I encouraged this he might kick my arse. Now drink up. I'm giving you one night of self pity and then tomorrow we can pick up the pieces and figure something out."

A wobbly smile came across her lips as she slid what she suspected to be a shot of tequila closer to herself and managing a "Thanks, Mickey." before blowing her nose on another tissue.

Mickey grunted before heading down to the other side and serving some stragglers. Without another word she threw back the shots offered until she was feeling the room spin and the shiver spread.

"We got the afternoon
You got this room for two
One thing I've left to do
Discover me
Discovering you

One mile to every inch of
Your skin like porcelain
One pair of candy lips and
Your bubblegum tongue

'Cause if you want love
We'll make it
Swimming a deep sea
Of blankets
Take all your big plans
And break 'em
This is bound to be a while"

The familiar lyrics sung in a smooth voice brought her attention to the far end of the bar where three guys sat. The lights dim but the stage was lit up more than the rest of the bar. The voice was deep and smooth with some rasp in it; she could almost feel it within her bones. Shivers ran through her, goose bumps rising from her skin. The group was a good-looking group but the lead singer was the one that caught her eye.

He was perched on a stool in front of the microphone with a black acoustic fender in his arms, the strap tossed over his shoulder. His voice carried through the room as he sang into the microphone so intimately as if the microphone was getting a private show, Alison found herself almost jealous of the metal object. His voice was like a caress to her soul it made her feel warm and a little fuzzy on the inside, or maybe that was the alcohol speaking but nonetheless it was rapidly becoming her favourite sound. He sat in a fitted long sleeve black shirt, the few buttons at the top undone and the sleeves pushed up to show his muscular forearms. His long legs clad in dark slim fitting jeans, his feet in black worn combat boots. His dark hair looking like he ran his hands through them a few hundred times, sticking up all over but oddly suitable.