A sickening feeling entangled my heart as I glared at a man leering at me. He had straight blonde hair and glittering bright blue eyes similar to the color of the sea. The man’s face was long and narrow, and twisted into a mischievous smile, like a kid you’d see on a magazine’s front cover. As we stared at each other, I felt my distaste turn into immense desire. A burning sensation ripped through my body as our staring continued. My heart felt like it was on fire; the flames stirred by his good looks and intense gaze.
His long legs began to stroll toward my still figure.
My heart sunk in surprise as if it were drowning in my own body. My jaw dropped to the floor as I admired his confidence and grace. Nervousness rose within me. My jittery heartbeat intensified. The palm of my shaking hands became a pool of sweat. I swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath. I watched this unfamiliar man tuck his hands in his slick black jacket. A husky cologne wafted through the air and grasped my attention. My eyes widened.
“Why, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He growled in a seductive, playful tone once he reached me toward the end of the dimmed bar area. His innocent blue eyes shut a bit as he peered into mine, obvious passion arising within them.
“No, I’m not that beautiful, really.” I said, staring at the ground, warmth filling my pink cheeks. A wave of intimidation swept over me, cluttering my mind with irritating thoughts. All of a sudden, he wrapped his arms around my waist and enclosed all space between us. His stare was to my chest, revealed by my loose red blouse. He rested his hands on the sides of my hips, his gentle touch sending shivers up my spine. I was very slow to react what he was doing. But I didn’t want to move. I was allured, attracted.
A light yelp escaped my lips as I wiggled out of his arms. He frowned, saddened by the distance between us. Suddenly, my high-heel got caught on a crack in the wooden floor, and I lost my balance. My spidery long leg snapped awkwardly at the ground, as if my legs couldn’t carry me. As I was about to fall, he caught me in his muscular arms.
My whole body became rigid with instinctive rebellion.
“Don’t touch me!” I barked, hardening my jaw and tightening my fuming eyes. His blue eyes got big, but they eased in tension. He captured my focus, my eyes, and I was hooked. He began to linger toward me again, as if he was a snake, about to strike me.
“…Don’t…” I tried to speak. “Don’t touch me…” My words were a faint whisper, not assertive or demanding at all. The boy’s features became flawlessly smooth. A smirk crossed his lips. He tilted his head in what I would assume to be because of curiosity.
“Relax.” He breathed slowly, placing his arms around my waist again, sinking them into my skin. I gazed at him, amazed, the anger beginning to leave my stormy eyes. My skin became thick with warmness.
His next action was unpredictable.
He grabbed my head of hair and brushed it away from my eyes. His free hand slid along my spine. He suddenly pulled me close again. I jolted into his body. He suddenly grabbed the apples of my cheeks and pulled my face toward his. He crushed his starving, ferocious lips against mine.
A whirlwind of excitement rushed through my body.
At first, because of this, I couldn’t breathe. He moved his lips over mine, sucking with desire. His lips were plump and soft, similar to my own. The taste of his lips made me quite frisky, a feeling I was not familiar with.
It was a horrific battle, me against temptation, to stop kissing this irresistible boy. But I pulled away before desire won. I pushed his chest, carved in muscle, away from me. He didn’t budge, instead he leaned his face toward mine, wanting back my lips.
“Come on, please.” He moaned desperately, his eyes becoming two blue pools of sadness. I began to relax in his arms and thought less of my abusive boyfriend, Robert Glass, who would kill me if he saw me with this beautiful stranger.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Hazel Adele.” I said, while taking quick looks around the room, checking to make sure no one I knew was here.
“I’m Lance. Are you from Magnolia?”His voice was seductive and smooth.
“Yes.” I nodded. Magnolia was my small hometown outside of Seattle.
“I see, baby.” He crooned, resting his head beside mine.
“Who said I was your baby?” I barked, mischievousness twinkling in my dark brown eyes. He hesitated for a moment, seeming to consider the question. “Your eyes-“he said finally, pulling away from me and lifting my chin with his finger.
“They reveal your emotions. You want me.”
Answer :
is she being raped? not bad anyways, nice choice of words.
answer mine please?
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;…
This is the beginning of a story I have to write for school. It is supposed to be historical and about the sea. I am 12. What do you think? Please be very honest when commenting - I'm not afraid of criticism! How can I improve it? Would you enjoy reading this or is it boring? Thank you very much!
How many victims have you slaughtered like this? Your ghostly fingers pushed me away so ruthlessly, a hunger in your eyes as though this is what you live for. As though this is the remedy for all the patched-up hurt inside you. As though you want more, and more and more. You just want more and more unwitting people to mindlessly massacre, to sacrifice to the sea.
You prised me away from the jagged rock I was clinging to. Now I am almost wholly submerged in the black water, which glints ominously like light on the blade of a knife. I can no longer see you. I can no longer see anything. I am shrouded in a veil of darkness, which I cannot escape from. Desperately I tell my legs to move but they won’t listen. I have done the panicking and the kicking and the frantic calls for help and they have taken their toll. I have not much time left.
My muscles are being relentlessly gnawed at by icily cold teeth, while water seeps through my clothes and trickles down into my boots, making them feel like lead blocks weighing me down. The wind swipes my face, as it whispers its undecipherable language, trailing invisible fingers through the water and stirring up white horses. A wave is slowly rising above me, ready to leap on top of me, and smother me in a deadly blanket. That’s what will kill me.
I’m going to die. But somehow I don’t mind. My life was meaningless the moment you pushed me away. You and your alluring chestnut eyes. Goodbye beautiful moon. Goodbye almighty sea. I brace myself for the towering wave. All I can say now is, please God, make it quick.
* * * * * *
I had never thought much of the sea. But by the end of my story I believe I came to love it. It was a treacherous journey and in the end was my undoing. However it was also an amazing story – a dark, horrendous story and for this I am willing to share it with you.
For fifteen years, or thereabouts, I lived in Kent, running a small surgery and I was very happy. Many wondered why I had not married yet and I had no answer for the few that asked. So I was on my way to becoming an old man, at nearly forty, but I felt as though I was still waiting for my life to begin. That feeling had been haunting me for some time, but then the letter arrived in the post. Who would have thought that that small, insignificant scrap of paper could change my life forever? I certainly suspected nothing as I broke open the red seal and took out the letter.
I saw my name printed first: To Hugh Norris. It was from the Royal Navy, the last thing I would have expected; I thought that maybe they had sent it to the wrong person. Then I read further... They required me on the HMS Triumphant, one of Nelson’s ships, soon to go into battle with the French, to be the ship surgeon. I was speechless. It offered no reasons, no explanations, nothing but orders. As I put the letter down, my mind suddenly overflowed with questions, the initial shock behind me. Why me? I have no experience of the sea, live ages away from Portsmouth (where the ships are docked) and am a mere surgery owner. To this day I am none the wiser. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with a great sense of sadness. It surged through me as I realized just how much I would miss this humble life of mine. How much I would miss this surgery. It was small but cosy and I loved it. A lone tear meandered down my cheek but I promptly brushed it away. ‘Pull yourself together, Hugh’ I told myself.
In a week’s time, I was locking the mahogany door for the last time. Mahogany’s my favourite wood: I love its dark reddish-brown colour. I hauled my heavy suitcase onto the carriage and set off, the rhythmic beating of the horses’ hooves on the road soon lulling me to sleep.