Savannah, Colt, and their general likeness are literary property of my best friend. He's created a whole "universe" (Leoverse) with them and I'd appreciate it if they aren't stolen.
This was written to be something else and turned into a pretty decent FanFic of his project "Infinite Sadness" so logically I changed the names. Which was all I had to change.
This is looking to be a three part series. Yes, this is part one. No they aren't wet and hot the whole time. And yes the will be (for the most part) in the next to pieces.
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INT. SAVANNAH AND COLT'S APARTMENT – SPARE BEDROOM – WALK IN CLOSET -
PAST/INDETERMINATE TIME
The abrupt change in temperature meant only one thing – Colt was home. Whipping my head around I tried desperately to get a peak around the silk cloth that was tied around my head but all was for naught. That sucker was on there tight! After licking my lips with my leathery, thirsty tongue I tried to call to her, make a sound, say anything that would get her to direct her attention away from stripping down and drawing a bath and towards me… Tied up… In the walk in closet… Alone… With the light off… Oh gosh, you get my drift! It's not like I planned it this way, oh no! It's not like I even MEANT FOR TODAY TO HAPPEN. But oh well, I guess we live and learn.
INT.SAVANNAH AND COLT'S APARTMENT – MASTER BEDROOM/BATHROOM – 5AM
This morning started out like any other, mind you. Tricia, my lovely girlfriend of five years, was woken up by her shrill alarm at five o'clock sharp. Well, should I say I was woken up to wake her up… Why she gets up so early is beyond me but whatever she does between then and her ten o'clock work shift seemed to be paying off. Hearing her alarm, I rolled over nudged her in the back with my knee hoping she would wake up. "Five more minutes… Please?" she said laughing. Rolling out of bed and onto the floor she looked up from her hands-and-knees position and reached for my leg, ultimately flicking it the reason for her wake-up. "You know your bony little knee will always wake me up. It's a good thing I'd love you or you'd be getting drop kicked right now!"
Grabbing her slippers from the floor by her other hand she hops up and jogs casually to the bathroom… Naked. Always with the naked. I'm not saying I mind but it is awfully hard to return to sleep and actually sleep with that wonderful imagine in my mind each morning. Tricia is…. Well she just is. No words can truly capture her instance and to try would be to put to shame all that she is. Tall and statuesque, she towers over my slight 5"5' frame by three inches. I'm constantly walking around in heels so I don't have to stretch to kiss her. She has a natural arc to her back that gives her that, "I am a god and everything I say shall be obeyed under punishment of sexual torture," air that leaves me as anything but an unwilling pawn in her giant game of chess.
Her cropped, black hair fell just beyond her jaw in a jagged, feathery line that gave it an appearance of being in a constantly disorganized organization and her bright blue eyes could bore holes in even the densest substance. Sometimes I feel like she is trying to set me afire with her gaze while all the while trying to put her fire out. Her long, slender fingers grasp at things like the softest of talons set at the end of the whitest, smoothest rope. And oh the joys that are her breasts… How can one spend a day not staring longingly at the buttons that just barely stay closed?
*Ahem* Excuse me, I tend to get a little… Poetic… when dealing with one such as she. In any case, here I was, laying in bed and staring at the steam pouring from the bathroom door which was left conspicuously ajar. I always wonder about this because she closes it when she gets inside and then opens it when she's started the shower. Perhaps to entice me? Perhaps because the heat of the scalding water and the heat of her own skin are too much to handle? Who knows…
After a loud, exuberant solo into her scrub brush she turns off the water and I hear the shower door slide close and the medicine cabinet open. After some rummaging she swings the door closed and nudges her way through the small gap in the bathroom door – Wet, naked skin glistening in the morning light and a disposable razor between her teeth as she twists a towel around her hair. She sits down on the arm chair in the corner – well, actually sits
across
it – and places her leg up on the wall. Running the razor up her leg she looks over at me and asks, "What are you doing still awake? Don't you have better things to do than stare at me?" Looking pleased at her work she nonchalantly runs the razor quickly over her mound with extreme precision. "I don't have all day. If there's something you need to say, can't you just do that? I have things to attend to." Shaking my head I wave a dismissing hand and roll over to catch some more sleep.
Can't she just admit she's gorgeous?
After a disgruntled snort I hear noises that signify she changed which leg was resting on the wall and a few moments after that I hear the bedroom door click closed. I wonder where she goes at such an early hour… Nodding back off to sleep my dreams are filled with pictures of my tongue running rampant over her taunt stomach and creamy thighs. She woke me up a few hours later with a kiss and a casual, "Be good, I'm off to work, Sav," and then she left. As the door was closed, I watched the tanned leather skirt she had on lose a battle with her firm, round ass and ride completely up to her waist.
Let's hope she notices before she gets to the office. Last time, while funny, was not very pretty.
My hopes of catching a few more hours of sleep were crushed when my cell phone rang. Thinking it was her I jumped out of bed and made a mad dash to the hallway where I left it charging the night before. Forgetting Colt had left me with nothing but my socks on last night (though I don't really see how they didn't just shoot off) I slipped on the wooden floor of the hallway and made a home run slide into the couch about ten feet away.
