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Chapter 1
2009.08.13. 19:06
DISCLAIMER: The story you will get to read here is PURE FICTION! All happenings and actions are just the result of my FANTASY and should be considered as PARODY. It is NOT my intent to harm anyone's privacy - as the persons this FANFICTION deals with are of public interest and have celebrity status.
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Feeling incomplete can be a wicked thing - and David should know best. Doesn't hinder him to tap into his own, too wellknown traps. This time it's slightly different...
Though I labelled it [D] a few inputs of DM members can occur - only short intermezzi though - no main plot.
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Incomplete
I.
It’s never enough. I just can’t get enough – as usual. The middleaged man with the slightly greyed, neatly trimmed sideburns brushes over his full rosy lips with his left index finger. There’s nothing really sticky to take care off – it’s more the kind of thoughts racing through his mind at the moment keeping him fixed, adhesive like sellotape. An unconscious gesture – very him at times. He starts looking at his cuticles again – well manicured fingers – that nervously hammer onto the plastic coated table. The surface of the already cold coffee in a white, thick mug is curling – a few drops spilling over the rim. With a slight curse he drags away the New York Times – not being able to avoid a few little stains on the cover sheet. He waves the waitress for a fresh hot refill. Now where’s the sugar? Black, strong and sweet – his favourite combination. In more than one regard! Except for chocolate – dark and strong, yet not so sweet.
His eyes wander over to the table in the left corner again. People rushing in and out off the tiny café with take away – she still sits there for two hours now.
Well, that’s how long he’s in here, observing her – maybe a little longer then – as at first he didn’t recognize her. Only when she passed him to go for the restroom. The vague scent of her perfume following her like a mild wind over lavender and rose fields. And there was something more he couldn’t lay his hands on. Perhaps Bergamotte? Though a little too heavy. When she returned he shortly was able to get a straight look into her blue-grey eyes. A shade of dark sodalith and agate. And in that very moment he already knew it was too late. There was no sign of recognition – just the lights sparkling in them – looking kinda trough him while she was moving her head slightly, fixing a strand of her dark, long hair behind her left ear. A beautiful celtic silver clasp holding parts of her hair back – giving view onto her even shaped face.
She bends over a powerbook writing like in a trance. Every now and then she peers out off the windows, her view following the passers by. He can’t keep his eyes off her – and he has no idea why. She’s not really his type of woman – though she’s tall and obviously has long legs. He’s more for the slender, delicately shaped ones – a little fragile, yet strong in personality. This one’s features are more XL than M – though she’s well proportioned. Yet she has something very fragile at her – the tall and strong she appears – something ain’t right.
I. - part two
He takes another sip of his coffee, cringing. Gosh, where did he have his thoughts pouring in the sugar?! Sticky sweet! A look at his watch tells him it’s time to get back to the studio. They already must be waiting for him – damn!
This moment she looks up from her laptop and their eyes meet for the first real time. He has to swallow hard.
„How long will you keep on staring at me like that? You really seem to be a die hard – nearly two and a half hours now.“
The smooth timbre of her voice giving him goosebumps. How did she recognize? Every time he glimpsed at her she was definitely busy typing!
As if she read his mind she goes on.
„I can see your reflection in the window.“
Saying this she closes her powerbook and slips it into the olive green sleeve – some hip australian brand – and gets up, grabbing her jacket.
„Have a nice day, David.“
She walks for the main door, blinking at him shortly.
He’s still that perplexed he isn’t able to say anything reasonable. Then he seems to realize she’s definitely leaving and jumps up.
„Wait, please wait!“
He sees her already crossing the road, traffic lights turning red again. Shit! She disappears into the mass of fast moving New Yorkers.
No, he won’t give up that easily! He had to find her! With the next bunch of people he makes it to the other side of the street and follow her last direction to the right.
After a while scanning the masses of heads in front of him he thinks he sees a silver celtic clasp glistening in the sunlight. At a second look he’s sure – there she walks! He sees her turning into a more quiet side lane. If his memory is right there’s a record shop selling vinyls and rarities. He waits at the corner just to see her disappear into the said store.
Patience is a virtue, David – he tells himself and leans against the next wall. On the other hand – why not sneaking into that shop aswell? The moment he comes to this conclusion he sees her stepping down the stairs. Now or never! He starts walking with brisk steps.
„Hey, are you stalking me?“
She stops in front of him, a little smile on her face. In his head a huge gap opens up. He doesn’t get out a word again – just locking his eyes with hers. Then he simply pushes her against the next concrete wall and crushes his lips onto hers. She tries to free herself from his arms at first but then gives in into his passionate kiss and embrace, their tongues meeting.
„Hey, wait a sec!“, she whispers breathlessly and lets her IT- bag sink next to her. Her hands now cup his face, watching him with great asthonishment and then she meets his mouth again. God, she tastes so great! He pulls her even closer to his body. She must feel his hard on now, but he doesn’t care at all.
When they break the kiss again he can see her blushing.
„You must be out off your mind or mad – maybe both – as this makes no sense at all!“ She quickly picks up her bag and wants to run. He’s faster and holds her back, grabbing her arm.
„No, please don’t leave like that! I need to see you again.“ He searches in his pockets and finds his wallet.
„Here’s my number. Can I have yours aswell, please?“
„David – if I would – I will call you.“
He looks at her with an insisting, begging expression.
„Please! I promise I’m not up to any bad – and if you tell me next time I should not call again I will have to accept it.“
With a slight sigh she opens her purse and picks out a tiny white card aswell.
„Thank you...Ciara!“
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