Close Call
Jan. 1st, 2014 07:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Close Call
Rating: PG-13
Summary: One of Yvonne's boyfriends on their relationship.
Warnings: there's implied sexual content, that's it.
Notes: Hurray for writing sprints!
He met her in a bar. Of course he met her in a bar, he meets all his bad life choices in bars, but she was a particularly awful one.
Of course he didn't know that at the time. She wore a tight red dress, practically transparent, cut high at the skirt and low at the neckline, and half the guys in the bar were dying to see it on their bedroom floor, so when she smiled at him he thought he was the luckiest SOB in Kansas City. When she went home with him and practically fucked him through the mattress, he knew it.
He wasn't really sure when he started dating her; it just seemed to happen. She kept calling him, and showing up at the bar in those tight, tiny dresses. They'd go places together, eat dinner, end up back at his place and spend the night.
Once, at the end, he picked her up at her house and met her shy, dark-haired daughter. She seemed pleased that he asked about the kid, even more pleased when he mentioned that he'd always vaguely wanted a family and here was one ready made. He thought maybe.
After sex that night, he brought up her daughter again. He didn't remember why—asking if she had to be home for the kid or something stupid like that. Probably he meant to wheedle her into staying. But she turned just a bit, looked over the smooth line of her shoulder, and what he saw in her eyes...
He could never describe it, not then, and not afterwards. But it scared him so shitless he found himself shoved against the headboard, shaking. He blocked her number from his phone soon as she went home the next morning, and thanked all his lucky stars when she never tried to contact him again.
He thought about the daughter sometimes, when he was drinking and avoiding blonde women. What her life must be like. How hard it must be living with a mother with that in her eyes.
But hey, he'd only met the kid once. She was probably just like her mother.
Women always were.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: One of Yvonne's boyfriends on their relationship.
Warnings: there's implied sexual content, that's it.
Notes: Hurray for writing sprints!
He met her in a bar. Of course he met her in a bar, he meets all his bad life choices in bars, but she was a particularly awful one.
Of course he didn't know that at the time. She wore a tight red dress, practically transparent, cut high at the skirt and low at the neckline, and half the guys in the bar were dying to see it on their bedroom floor, so when she smiled at him he thought he was the luckiest SOB in Kansas City. When she went home with him and practically fucked him through the mattress, he knew it.
He wasn't really sure when he started dating her; it just seemed to happen. She kept calling him, and showing up at the bar in those tight, tiny dresses. They'd go places together, eat dinner, end up back at his place and spend the night.
Once, at the end, he picked her up at her house and met her shy, dark-haired daughter. She seemed pleased that he asked about the kid, even more pleased when he mentioned that he'd always vaguely wanted a family and here was one ready made. He thought maybe.
After sex that night, he brought up her daughter again. He didn't remember why—asking if she had to be home for the kid or something stupid like that. Probably he meant to wheedle her into staying. But she turned just a bit, looked over the smooth line of her shoulder, and what he saw in her eyes...
He could never describe it, not then, and not afterwards. But it scared him so shitless he found himself shoved against the headboard, shaking. He blocked her number from his phone soon as she went home the next morning, and thanked all his lucky stars when she never tried to contact him again.
He thought about the daughter sometimes, when he was drinking and avoiding blonde women. What her life must be like. How hard it must be living with a mother with that in her eyes.
But hey, he'd only met the kid once. She was probably just like her mother.
Women always were.
